


Omertà

by licensetokill



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Also aided by a heavy consumption of bungou stray dogs, Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Alternate Universe - Police, Based on The Departed, Drug Use, Gang AU, Gangs, I mean its the mafia, Implied/Referenced Torture, Like murder and drugs and all that fyi, M/M, Mafia AU, Sex, Think of Wonwoo...... but Captain Holt, Violence, but not very explicit, fun times, port mafia ftw, pretty dark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2020-05-12 03:21:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 29,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19220533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/licensetokill/pseuds/licensetokill
Summary: Omertà is the code that tethers all members to the mafia and ensures their loyalty. No man must betray a fellow man or the organization to the law, and all men are expected to take full responsibility for their actions, or take the fall for others, in order to preserve the mafia. Failure to abide by Omertà will result in assassination.↓“Sometimes I think you’re paranoid, Cheol. Our men are bound for life by Omertà.”Seungcheol gazed wistfully at the blood pooling on his expensive marble floor.That’ll be a bitch to get out of the tile seams once it crusts,he thought. “Yes,” he replied, “until they decide to break it.” And they too would suffer the same fate as the blood on his sparkling floor.⇊A twisted game of trading places, where mafioso Wen Junhui becomes a mole in the police force, and the newly promoted cadet Yoon Jeonghan infiltrates Seoul’s biggest crime syndicate.





	1. Two Bosses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An insight into Wen Junhui and Yoon Jeonghan's very separate worlds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M BACK!, but stupidly starting a second fic while I still have an unfinished one going on...... whoops.  
> This chapter doesn't have a ton of action, mostly just introducing our new characters  
> Okay I tried to switch up the ships a lil bit

 

**Omertà**

**“Whoever appeals to the law against his fellow man is either a fool or a coward. Whoever cannot take care of himself without police protection is both. It is cowardly to betray an offender to justice, even though his offenses be against yourself, as it is not to avenge an injury by violence. It is dastardly and contemptible in a wounded man to betray the name of his assailant, because if he recovers, he must naturally expect to take vengeance himself. A wounded man shall say to his assailant: If I live, I will kill you - If I die, you are forgiven."**

 

There was something luxurious in watching a man die in front of you while lounging on a throne. 

At least Choi Seungcheol thought so.

The man’s whimpers begging for mercy only irritated him more. “Pathetic,” he said lazily, signaling for Minghao to end his sloppy misery and therefore Seungcheol’s annoyance.

There was a sharp stab in the chest, a shuddering choke, and a final squelch as Minghao pulled out the blade. 

“Much better.”

Minghao nodded curtly before wiping the blade off expertly on the dead man’s clothes; Xu Minghao was not one to get his designer attire dirty, if unnecessary. “Sir, is that all?”

Seungcheol hummed out a response. “Yes, Minghao, please dispose of the body. He had nothing important for me anyway.”

The blonde boy next to him rolled his eyes, but not without Seungcheol noticing. He glanced over, cocking a questioning smirk and raising a brow. “Something to say, Jihoonie?”

The consigliere sighed and shook his head. “He had plenty of information. That was a petty waste and you know it.”

Seungcheol unfolded his arms and stretched out languidly on his chair, fingertips elongating and curling over the edges of the arms. “What, who his boss was and where the rest of his men were? I already knew.”

Jihoon raised a brow at that, unimpressed and unconvinced. “Oh really? Who and where?”

Seungcheol leaned in toward Jihoon and pressed his finger to his lips with a quiet shh. He wiggled his finger and answered, “Secrets, Jihoon. Some things must remain unsaid. Especially not with everyone lurking around here.”

It almost looked like Jihoon was about to laugh. “What, you think little Minghao would secretly betray us after all these years? Sometimes I think you’re paranoid, Cheol. Our men are bound for life by Omertà.”

Seungcheol gazed wistfully at the blood pooling on his expensive marble floor. _That’ll be a bitch to get out of the tile seams once it crusts,_ he thought. “Yes,” he replied, “until they decide to break it.” And they too would suffer the same fate as the blood on his sparkling floor.

 

\----------

 

Heels clicked and clacked against the marbled floor, reverberating down the dark, empty hallway with a sharp authority. Wen Junhui adjusted his watch and smoothed out his jacket before pulling open the grand mahogany doors in front of him. 

The room was swathed in purple and pink hues from the incoming sunset filtering through the open window that covered the entirety of the east wall. Step close enough, and it felt like you were falling down into the streets of Seoul down below. 

He much preferred the view in Shenzhen though.

In front of him stretched a long dining table filled with every Korean delicacy he could name, and many more he couldn’t. The heels of his shoes continued to ring out until he sunk his feet into the deep red and intricately designed Persian rug Seungcheol had gotten shipped all the way from Iran. He didn’t even want to know how many thousands Seungcheol had blown on it, but then again, he could afford to do things like that. He always was careful when eating at the dining table though. He’d seen a guest drop his chicken onto the rug once, and Seungcheol, counter intuitively, impulsively shot him in his blind rage. _Then_ there was just even more of a mess on the rug than before. Chan spent the better half of that week getting the blood out with various chemicals.

The table felt nearly empty with all the untouched seats. Across the room, Seungcheol sat at the head, with Jihoon on one side and Minghao on the other. Seungcheol smiled as he looked up, and Junhui took a seat next to Minghao. 

It was hard not to kiss his boyfriend while he looked like that with his shirt cut deep and scarf tied fashionably around his neck which put his own ensemble to shame. 

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Junhui apologized to Minghao. “I’ve been tied up in the Incheon shipping docks all day trying to figure out what the Chinese smuggled in those containers.” 

“And?” Seungcheol cocked his head in sudden interest and leaned forward.

“An estimated ten billion won in beauty whitening products,” Junhui stated simply.

Seungcheol looked almost amused. “And why is a highly skilled criminal organization smuggling in face masks and lotions of all things?”

“The products violate the 1 ppm standard mercury level over 50,000 times. Women seem to buy them anyway, knowing the risks, or are completely oblivious. Anyway, they’ll fly off the shelves and China will benefit a shit ton,” said Junhui.

“Interesting,” Seungcheol replied, popping a grape into his mouth. “Make sure we get our hands on those shipments. Figure something out, or bring in Seungkwan to negotiate a deal with the Chinese and translate.”

Junhui nodded, weary. Sometimes working under Seungcheol was completely draining. He split his time between doing jobs for Seungcheol and going to police classes. He’d spent eight months in police academy training, as part of Seungcheol’s plan to get a mole into the police force. Junhui had been the natural choice, being the best at spying and secret intelligence. 

He couldn’t deny Seungcheol. He was the one who picked him up off that trashy corner in the Jung-ju district of Busan, back when Seungcheol still lived there. He took pity on some starving street rat that rainy night and turned him into a delicate but horrifying wraith. 

That was when he met Minghao, a barely eighteen-year-old boy who taught him the _dim mak_ pressure points and stomach 9-point which could lead to a pitiful delayed death or unconsciousness, to sneak up on a man like a ghost and steal his belongings, and how to use everything from nunchucks to a gun. It was morbidly romantic.

Seungcheol taught him how to seduce, to use his words and body to twist the minds of men into giving him exactly what he wanted. He’d say his success rate was a solid 9/10. It was surprising how many people couldn’t deny a pretty face. 

He’d always been wary of Jihoon since the beginning, when Seungcheol had a small gang nowhere near the size of his future empire in Seoul. The boy was cold, but sometimes he caught him offering glimpses of warmth to Seungcheol. Sometimes he would give Junhui meaningful pieces of advice or ways to use his intelligence and quick wits as another weapon in his arsenal, and Junhui took what he could get.

Things were different in Seoul than they were in Busan. Sometimes he wished he could go back, to the time were things weren’t necessarily easy, but easier and simpler. When he was a kid learning how to trigger pressure points and falling in love.

“I take my final police exam next week,” Junhui perked up.

“Good,” Seungcheol mused. He added, “Don’t fuck it up.”

Junhui smiled. His training was a joke compared to his experience in the mafia. “I think you trained me a little better than that, hyung.”

“Of course.” Seungcheol smiled genuinely. “I guess I’ll have to procure someone else to do your work in your absence, won’t I?”

“Good luck finding someone as qualified,” Minghao laughed. Jihoon grumbled something about hoping Seungcheol knew what he was doing, sending away one of his most talented protégés. 

The dinner conversation ebbed and flowed between work and personal matters and occasional laughs until the sun was disappearing below the horizon and peeking in between the skyscrapers. They’d gone through nearly two bottles of Minghao’s expensive wine when their dinner concluded and Junhui snatched the bottle on the way to their bedroom.

“I think I had a bit too much to drink,” he giggled before taking another swig of the bottle and getting some of the dark wine on his dress shirt. 

“Hey, you better not drink all of that! You’re spilling a six million won wine, you know? And this is a _cheap_ year,” Minghao retorted, swiftly taking the bottle from Junhui’s grasp as they made it into their bedroom.

Though he was never one with an eye for fashion or design, he let Minghao take full control of their bedroom. And it was beautiful. The design was simple. but luxurious. Midnight blue chiffon curtains hung down from the two story high ceiling, and their metallic blue bed faced the open window and overlooked the city’s night life. The accents and adorning furniture were sleek and accompanied by a single large painting above their bed.

Junhui pulled him in a closer embrace, throwing his arms around Minghao’s neck and running his fingers up the nape of his neck. “Minghao, I’ll buy you six more.”

He couldn’t help grin as Minghao flashed a nearly convincing scowl. The upturned ends of his lips and the amused glint in his eyes gave him away. And he definitely knew he wasn’t mad when Minghao gave in and leaned into Junhui’s Petrus-flavored kiss.

They broke away smiling, disgustingly domestic. Too domestic for a pair of murderers. Chan once laughingly nicknamed them the “killer couple” of their mob family after watching them murder an entire room of people after a deal-gone-wrong, and it stuck.

Junhui’s mind began to waver, aided by the red wine. “Do you remember when we had our first kiss?”

The younger boy rolled his eyes. “ _Obviously._ ”

Seungcheol had ordered Junhui to shadow Minghao on an easy job so that maybe he’d learn a thing or two. An abandoned warehouse, the torture of a man who hadn’t paid his debts, and a slit of the throat later, the two were locking lips until they couldn’t breathe. He still remembered the flecks of blood that smeared across his face and through the tips of his hair.

Cause nothing screamed date night like intense flirting, raging hormones, and the literal screaming of a dying man in the background.

“I’m—worried,” Minghao broke out, sitting down on their bed and sinking down into the dark expanse of their fluffy bedspread.

They’d had several conversations about Junhui becoming a police officer next week, and Minghao was uneasy. 

“Minghao, I’ve been trained to kill, seduce, and extract information for over five years,” assured Junhui, plopping down beside him.

“I’m not worried about your safety,” Minghao stressed, “I’m worried about those people…”

He found the concerned crease between Minghao’s brows cute. “Your jealousy is endearing but unnecessary,” he slurred, cupping Minghao’s soft face in the palms of his hands. 

The boy gave an unconvinced huff and took off his shirt and slacks to get ready for bed. Still, Junhui pulled him forward before Minghao turned around and turned off the lights. “I promise you, nothing will happen."

Instead of words, Minghao gave him a final kiss and the room went dark.

Then he closed his eyes and prayed for the unlikely chance that he’d slip into a restful, placid sleep.

 

\----------

 

The smell of freshly brewed hazelnut coffee caused Yoon Jeonghan’s head to shoot up from his desk at 6:45 A.M., saving his head from falling sleep and smacking the table in exhaustion. 

He’d seen Mingyu do it once, and everyone remembered it for weeks. But then again, it was Mingyu.

He groggily walked around from his desk cubicle to find the front desk littered in coffees. “Oh thank you god,” he said, running over and snatching a cup. The station’s coffee machine had somehow broken down the week before and he never had any time to make coffee at home. 

Then he caught sight of Mingyu, who lifted up two boxes. “Donuts!” 

His mouth was about to water. No more than a split second after Mingyu set them down on the desk, Jeonghan was devouring chocolate icing and rainbow sprinkles. He didn’t mind that he was a walking cliche of a police officer in that moment. “Mingyu,” he said, nearly incoherent in between donut bites, “Did I ever tell you that I love you from the bottom of my heart?”

Mingyu rolled his eyes in amusement. “All the time, hyung.”

Wonwoo strode by, plucking a chocolate glazed from the assorted selection. “Is this your doing, Mingyu?” he asked.

“Yes, Captain,” Mingyu replied, stilling. Jeonghan noticed his already-string bean build stand up a little taller.

“Good job,” Wonwoo said, flashing him a big smile and taking his coffee and donut back to his office.

After Wonwoo disappeared from their line of sight, Mingyu turned to Jeonghan, gushing. He couldn’t wipe the grin off his ridiculous face.

Jeonghan nearly choked on his coffee in laughter, embarrassed by his friend. “Oh my god, you’re such a slut for any attention or approval from him.”

“Shhh!” Mingyu reprimanded, but smiling nonetheless.

 _”Please_ tell me you guys have fucked already. The sexual tension is unbearably stiffening. One day, the police station will just implode because of it.” It earned him an elbow hit to the side which nearly caused his steaming coffee to slosh over the side of the styrofoam cup. “Hey!”

“Do you really have to say that here? Of all places?” he hissed, as he poured the canister of pure cane sugar into his coffee with creamer. Jeonghan scowled at the fascinating sight.

Somehow Jeonghan had stopped paying attention to the appalling amount of sugar Mingyu was pouring into his coffee and was disgustingly wrapped up in his own imagination. “Wait, would you call him Captain in bed? Would he find that _sexy_? What is he even _into?_ The dude is so serious all of the time.”

“You just haven’t gotten to know him yet!” Mingyu protested.

“Mmmmhm,” Jeonghan replied, taking a sip of his coffee with a raised brow.

Mingyu rolled his eyes at the new recruit. “You are the most unprofessional colleague I’ve ever had the pleasure of working with,” he said with a slight smile.

“Thank you.”

“Jeonghan! I need you in my office!” a loud voice called out. Captain Wonwoo.

“Shit,” he muttered. 

“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” Mingyu assured him.

“No, _you_ would be fine in this scenario because he totally has a soft spot for your suck-up ass.”

Mingyu gave him a weak protest as he pushed off the counter and made his way into Jeon Wonwoo’s office.

So he’d been a bit of a hotshot in the police academy. He’d breezed through his six-month training with flying colors, to the surprise of many. They’d underestimated the young guy with long hair and androgynous looks and pinned him as weak. Well, it’d certainly been a surprise when he’d beaten them all with his mile time and marksmanship test. 

It’d been three weeks since he’d joined the Seoul Metropolitan Police Agency, tasked with menial jobs and chores around the station. He understood he was just starting out and they wanted him to ease into it, but he was itching for something important to do. 

Of course, he’d hit it off quickly with Mingyu, the police deputy. Despite his lack of seriousness and his young age, he already had a major list of accomplishments. Then there was Jisoo, another officer who he joked off with at the desk beside his.

Also, during his many hours lazily filing and scanning old closed cases, he’d met Chwe Hansol, tech genius, coffee deliverer, and scanner of papers. He thought that the teenage intern showed up high to work every day on his first week, until Mingyu secretly informed him that he was just always like that. Jeonghan was under the sneaking suspicion that he was actually Wonwoo’s little cousin, and that’s how he landed the internship, but regardless, he was a good kid and did good work. 

The other day at the scanning machine:

_“Jeonghan-hyung, have you heard what’s been making the rounds around the station recently?”_

_He shook his head. “You know they don’t tell me anything, kid.” He fed more papers into the whirring machine._

_“Well, I was listening in on Wonwoo-hyung’s conversations and apparently he’s been trying to take down some big crime organization for almost a year, but they’re pretty much untouchable.”_

_Jeonghan’s eyes widened. “Really? Here in Seoul?” Seoul was known as a pretty safe city; of course there was crime, but rarely anything extreme._

_Hansol nodded. “He’s gotten a few leads, but nothing solid. Then I overheard that he’s planning on sending someone in to investigate and hopefully take them down.”_

_With Hansol’s apparently amazing spying skills, he should be considering_ him _for the job._

_“Do you think he’ll get Mingyu to do it?”_

_The boy flashed him a knowing look. “Mingyu-hyung? You know he’d accidentally expose himself the first day on the job.”_

_“Touché.”_

“Please, take a seat.” Wonwoo gestured to the two armchairs in front of his desk as he stood the office door, shutting it behind them.

“Yes sir.” Jeonghan obliged, nervously taking a seat as Wonwoo made his way back to his desk. The captain had an authoritative presence, not necessarily intimidating or unfriendly, but demanding of respect. The array of badges and golden pins with various meanings on his jacket glinted prettily in the sunlight that streamed through the office window.

“Trust me, you’re not in trouble,” Wonwoo said, a faint trace of a smile dancing on his lips. “I know you’d probably already heard some things from others in the office.”

“Sir?”

“I know you’re extremely qualified, Yoon Jeonghan. I’ve read your score reports. That’s why I specifically asked for you to be assigned to my office. You have potential.” He crossed his arms in thought and continued. “I’m taking a big risk, and maybe it will be a mistake. Prove me wrong. I want you on this crime syndicate job.”

“Excuse me?” he asked incredulously, mouth hanging wide open. So maybe he’d said earlier that he wanted to do something interesting, but this was… 

Wonwoo rubbed his temples as if the decision was giving him a headache. “Look, Jeonghan. You have no professional experience yet, but that’s why I think you are my best option here. You have a low profile. If I put any of the others on the mission, their real identities and occupations will be easily exposed once the mafia starts digging. It is too risky for them.

“You proved your talents in the academy, but haven’t made a name for yourself as an officer yet. I believe you have the physical and mental capabilities to go in and extract the information we desperately need. This organization is nefarious and needs to be shut down." The captain bit his lip in what Jeonghan would only dare label as nervousness. "I need you. You’re the only one.”

Somehow he’d been stunned into silence in the midst of Wonwoo’s speech. His logic made perfect sense, yet the reality of the job was terrifying. He didn’t know if he could do it. But did he have a choice?

“I would never put a just-graduated cadet in this position if I wasn’t this desperate.”

Jeonghan looked up at Wonwoo from where he’d been incessantly drumming his fingers on the armchair. The captain wore a dead serious expression as he looked him straight in the eyes, grave at the prospect of Jeonghan rejecting him.

Jeonghan exhaled a shaky sigh. “What do I need to do now?”

Wonwoo pulled out a manila file from a drawer and set it on the desk in front of him. “This file has all the information you need. It is everything we have on the organization to date—and its not much. All you need to know about your alias and background is in there. A separate surname, and just as an extra precaution, there’s the matter of your hair.”

Jeonghan furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”

“You’re easily recognizable by your brown-black hair, and regardless of whether or not we chop it off, I think your facial features are too memorable,” said Wonwoo. “So at least bleach and dye it, and hopefully that will make a drastic enough difference.” 

“Okay,” he gulped out. He’d never done anything extreme to his hair, occasionally choosing to turn it a dark brown, but maybe it was time for a change.

Wonwoo inched the file his way. “Please think about it, and let me know your decision.”

 

\----------

 

He tapped the steering wheel ceaselessly as he drove, deep in thought over the offer. He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he nearly missed the next turn.

He cursed as he yanked the wheel and got an angry honk from one of the cars behind him. Couldn’t the world just give him a little break? He was making a life-altering decision that could possibly kill him.

He finally slowed down and pulled into the parking space on the side of the street, getting out and walking into the building in front of him.

“Ah, Mr. Yoon!” the lady at the front desk cooed with a crescent-eyed smile.

He gave her a brief polite smile in return before looking down and signing the clipboard she handed him.

“Hold on a moment while I go get Suji,” she said, getting up from the desk to go into another room.

He swore, ever since the ladies at the daycare found out that he was a single, attractive father with an adorable five-year old they’d been swooning over him. He never bothered to complain because if anything, it was sweet and amusing. He was pretty sure they were giving up and losing hope by now anyway.

Yes, he’d had a kid at 19. Yes, it’d been a mistake. Yes, things hadn’t gone the way he’d planned at the time in college. The girl he hooked up with kept the baby but didn’t want it, didn’t need it, but he felt some sort of responsibility once he saw his baby. Needless to say, it’d just been Suji and him for the past five years, and yes, it wasn’t normal, but he loved it all the same.

The lady came out of the room with Suji in tow, who was grinning over a piece of paper in her little hands.

“Daddy! Do you like my picture! I made it just for you,” Suji said proudly, thrusting it at Jeonghan as he bent down.

It was an indecipherable crayon drawing of scribbles and loops and what looked to be something like the stick figure versions of him and Suji. He smiled back. “I love it.”

He picked her up around his hip, careful to keep her drawing intact in his other hand. The woman smiled in adoration. “Mrs. Eun said she had a great time today and her behavior was perfect as always.”

He thanked her before leaving and secured Suji in the backseat. The drive home was pretty quiet, with Suji looking out the window at the city buildings and making occasional random comments. Finally they pulled up to their apartment building. Their tiny apartment wasn’t the best, but he was content. Most of his money went toward Suji’s daycare anyway. The two of them didn’t need a luxurious high rise to survive.

They made their way to sixth floor and stopped a door before their own. Their neighbor, an older middle-aged lady named Ms. Seo, lived alone in the apartment next door.

The sweet lady loved to dote on Suji, sometimes babysitting her and always offering homemade dinners and baked desserts. He hated asking for favors, but he didn’t have many other options.

Ms. Seo came to the door a few moments after he knocked, instantly cupping Jeonghan’s cheeks and welcoming them in. “Jeonghan~” She crouched down to where Suji was holding her father’s hand. “And Suji!” she exclaimed, pinching her cheeks despite the toddler’s fussing.

“What can I do for you two?” she beamed, bringing them into the kitchen to give Suji some Bungeoppang.

“Ah Ms. Seo… I have a big favor to ask,” Jeonghan drawled out.

“Go on! You know you can come to me for anything, you are like my son by now,” she prodded.

It was true. Ever since her only child Johnny moved out of the house and went off to become an idol, she lived alone. He’d never met her son, but she was always gushing about how he was the love of her life. He felt like whenever he and Suji came over, it made her a little bit happier, reminding her of her busy, faraway son who was off somewhere making her proud.

He tried to lower his voice so Suji wouldn’t overhear. “I’m taking on a major task at the station, and I have a feeling it may be very long and odd hours. It’s just that the daycare doesn’t go past five and—”

“Shhh, stop worrying, I will pick Suji up after daycare every day and you can pick her up whenever you get home! You know I love that little girl.”

Well that was a huge relief lifted off his chest. After many _thank you’s_ and _no need to thank me’s_ the two were back in their own little apartment.

Later that night, he was standing at the bathroom counter with plastic gloves, bottles, boxes of hair dye, and an ounce of regret.

It was late and once he started, it wasn’t like he could go back. He had washed his hair out in the shower and began drying it when Suji appeared, leaning against the doorframe and rubbing her eyes.

“Why are you awake baby?” Jeonghan asked after turning the blow dryer off. 

“Mmm… I can’t sleep,” Suji said, blinking heavily. Then she looked at his head with a clear frown. Her little nose crinkled at the sight. 

Jeonghan bit back a smile. “What, you don’t like it?”

He bent down as she stepped forward and ran her tiny fingers through his half-dry half-wet blonde hair. “It doesn’t look like you, Daddy.”

“Aww.” He brought her into a hug, running his own fingers through her long black hair. “It’s still me, that will never change, I promise. I’ll make sure of it.” 

_Would_ this job change him though? Would he come out of it the same person?

That is to say, if he didn’t get murdered before he could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys liked it!  
> If you think I forgot about Sua, think again....  
> ALSO I knew I was gonna have an older neighbor lady but after watching NCT Johnny's Chicago blog,,,, it had to be his mom. She is so sweet  
> ALSO I watched this video documentary thing about some skin whitening products that are sold in japan and the philippines and many other asian countries and they are so toxic for your skin because they have high levels of mercury in them. They are smuggled in through shipping containers and then sold illegally. Many women are suffering horrible side effects because of it.  
> Please leave your thoughts if you feel like it! I love to see what you guys think and I always appreciate your comments (: They keep me going man


	2. A Typical Job Interview

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeonghan goes into Seungcheol's organization

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't proofread this and lowkey hate it cause I rushed it and it's not the way I wanted it to turn out but !!! its up
> 
> Kinda short??

 

 

All the pages in that manila folder was embedded into his brain from mulling over the documents inside it for hours the night before. He was still combing through it the next morning at his desk in between scanning and filing. Jeonghan had read every single word in that file—and some of it scared him.

“Do you know anything about Choi Seungcheol?” he asked out loud while staring at the single photo on the profile sheet.

Jisoo rolled his computer chair across the linoleum mats over to where Jeonghan sat at his desk and his eyes widened. “No, but he’s hot as fuck.”

Jeonghan whipped his head around at the officer beside him with raised brows. “Jisoo! He’s murdered at least 130 people.”

He only gave him an unabashed smirk as they looked back down at the picture. “He’s still hot as fuck.”

Suddenly there was someone leaning over his shoulder, and he looked up to see Mingyu looming over him. “Damn,” Mingyu said appreciatively, looking down at that same traffic camera photo of a man named Choi Seungcheol standing on the sidewalk and talking into a cell phone.

“Do either of you have any shame?” Jeonghan sighed, shaking his head. The two just laughed beside him.

That was the only photo they had. A single black and white frame of a young man with dark hair falling into his eyes and a pale, too-thin face. Even from so far away, he could tell he was all sharp lines and angles.

This was the untouchable man Wonwoo needed to take down. They knew virtually nothing about him—just that he owned a large organization and several businesses. Yet it was impossible to link any of them back to any nefarious activities. But thanks to an anonymous contact Wonwoo had in the city’s underworld, they’d been made aware of Seungcheol’s new “job opening” of sorts. A kind of intelligence officer. That was where Jeonghan came in.

“It’s cute,” Mingyu said off-handedly, flipping the ends of Jeonghan’s ponytail in his fingers once him and Jisoo had finally gotten over Seungcheol’s photo.

“Thanks,” he muttered begrudgingly. He didn’t hate it, but when he looked in the mirror, it was as if he was seeing a completely different being. Regardless, Wonwoo was pleased that Jeonghan had made up his mind and already committed to the job. Though it wasn’t like there was any going back.

“It’s got like, an edgy vibe,” Jisoo contributed, twirling Jeonghan’s hair thoughtfully. “Less like a chill dad, and more like a badass homme fatale?”

“Wow, that’s exactly what I’ve always wanted to become,” he shot back.

“Hey,” Mingyu defended, “maybe Seungcheol is into badass homme fatales.”

Jeonghan scowled and closed the file folder before the two got any more ridiculous ideas. “I would rather stay a chill dad than attract a murderer.”

Mingyu waved off Jeonghan’s comment as if it was just silly and paused. “Wait, what are you going to do with Suji?”

Thank god he’d figured that out before he’d accepted the mission. “My neighbor, Ms. Seo.”

Jisoo flashed him a teasing, tilted smirk. “And does Ms. Seo know you’re about to start working for the mafia while she babysits?”

“It’s not important.”

Jisoo nodded curtly before rolling back to his desk to pick up the ringing phone. “Yeah okay, sure.”

He swore he’d never get any work down with the two meddlesome officers beside him. But soon he wouldn’t be around them at all, and the thought made him a tinge sad.

 

\----------

 

The pouring rain soaked deep down into his shuddering bones, as if he wasn’t shaking from nervousness already.

He’d spent too much time deciding on a very simple outfit to wear, and it was already getting ruined under his thin jacket. So much for first impressions.

The job meeting had been arranged for Jeonghan to wait at a particular street corner where a vehicle would pick him up and take him to an undisclosed location. He wouldn’t even bother to bring any recording or tracking devices. It was best not to underestimate these people.

This street corner was the entrance into Seoul’s underworld, and there was no going back. There’d be no digging himself up out of the underground he was about to bury himself in.

A sleek, black SUV appeared behind the corner and came to an abrupt halt. A man in a suit got out of the back door and opened it wide for him. “Get in.”

Jeonghan followed without a word or a nod, opting to wipe the rain off his cheeks and push the wet strands of hair out of his face instead. He wiped his hands on the pleated leather seat that was surely expensive. His fingers picked at the threaded seams out of his nervous tick.

The windows had been completely blacked out from the inside, and there was a shut divider between the back seat and the front. His vision began to throb and blur into darkness, so he just shut his eyes. He also figured they probably picked him up far away enough from their destination that he would never be able to remember the number and order of left and right turns. All that kept him grounded was the constant pitter patter of raindrops hitting the car and filling his senses.

After some vague period of time the door lurched open, and Jeonghan squinted at the overbearing light flooding into the backseat, even though the outside surroundings weren’t actually that bright. Before he could make a move, a man with a buzz cut threw a blindfold over his eyes and tied it too tight at the back of his head, pulling his hair back the roots and making him wince.

Was this _really_ necessary? The man grabbed him by the arm and lugged him forward. He could hear other footsteps beside and behind him, maybe two other pairs. Suddenly he was shoved forward after a ding into an elevator, and he stood still as they zoomed up for a silent minute. How far were they going up? What skyscrapers in Seoul were the tallest? Before he could think about it though, they seemed to make it to their final destination.

“Now, do we treat all our guests this way?” A voice snapped from in front of him. The man who still had a grip on his arm pulled the blindfold down, and Jeonghan saw the same man in the manila folder he’d been examining for days.

“I’m sorry,” Choi Seungcheol said with a smile, lips too red for his plaster skin. He gestured to the seat in front of Jeonghan, so he sat down. Seungcheol gestured to the men behind him to leave and they scurried away without hesitation.

Someone entered from the door behind Seungcheol and took his own seat across from Jeonghan. The man looked so small and sweet, but cold. Well, if this person could even be considered a man. He looked barely legal. Though that didn’t cause Jeonghan to underestimate him.

Seungcheol extended his hand across the metal table and Jeonghan reached out to shake it. There’s always a lot you can tell about someone from their handshake, and Seungcheol’s was firm and steady. He flashed him another sickly smile. “I’m Choi Seungcheol.”

“Nice to meet you, I’m—”

“Park Jeonghan,” the boy in front of him finished for him, his seemingly perpetual frown contrasting Seungcheol’s smirking grin. 

Jeonghan nodded, probably too quickly. This is when things got tricky and he prayed he would remember everything in his cover. “Yes, Park Jeonghan.”

Seungcheol tilted his head. “Which Park clan?”

“Oh, I really wouldn’t know,” Jeonghan responded, trying to conceal his gulp with a pleasant smile. Hopefully they wouldn’t be able to see through his oncoming lies. Seungcheol just nodded, Jeonghan unable to read his face.

“Your profile said you work freelance? Why are you applying here then?” The other boy asked, glancing down at the file in his hands.

“I typically like working alone, but if your organization’s reputation precedes you, I decided to give it a shot.”

The boy’s gaze seemed to narrow in on him almost condescendingly, but Jeonghan straightened up taller. “And how exactly did you hear about us? This company holds a lot of power, but we don’t broadcast our identity.”

 _Yes, I know,_ Jeonghan thought. _That is why it took Wonwoo years to even figure out your leader._ “I served as an active duty soldier until I was 20. I made a lot of friends in there. I heard things.” It wasn’t a total lie, he had enlisted at 18. And the story was believable; corruption in military and government branches was rampant.

Seungcheol leaned forward from his spot sitting atop the metal table. That was the only object in the room, beside chairs. It made their meeting seem more like an interrogation than anything else. “You know what this job entails, right?”

He wanted to laugh. “I may not look like much, but I’ve had plenty of training, experience, and I’m a good listener.”

That made Seungcheol smirk at him with an intrigued glint in his eyes. “Good to know you’d be obedient enough to follow my orders.”

The boy looked beside him to Seungcheol with an internal eye roll you could read right off his unamused face.

“Your job would be to gather valuable information for me by any means necessary.”

Jeonghan shrugged to keep up his nonchalant cover. “Simple enough.”

“Would you kill a single mother in cold blood with three starving children back home?”

“If that’s what it took.”

“Do you have any family?” Seungcheol asked curiously.

 _Yes, a beautiful little daughter._ “No. Grew up with my aunt, but she passed away.”

Seungcheol hummed. “Would you have sex with anyone to extract information?”

“I’ll do anything.” His words scared him. He had no idea what he could do. He didn’t know if he could go through with any of it, but he kept reminding himself that this is what he prepared for.

“I guess we’ll find out, Jeonghan,” said Seungcheol, crossing his arms in contemplation. He turned his head to look down at the other boy, and the boy gave him a slight nod.

He turned his sharp, intimidating gaze back over to Jeonghan. “I’d hire you, but I think you should meet some of my trusted associates first and we’ll see what they think.”

More interrogations? Jeonghan didn’t think he could do it for much longer. But he agreed nonetheless. The boy nodded a goodbye that almost felt like a good luck before exiting the room.

Seungcheol got up and strode over to Jeonghan’s side of the table. The man seemed to tower over him, so Jeonghan pushed his seat out and stood up as well, the two face-to-face.

“Don’t be bothered with him,” Seungcheol advised, chuckling to himself. “Jihoon is always too serious and miserable for his own good.”

Jeonghan tried to smile, but couldn’t bring himself to it. He was standing in front of a mass murderer. Someone who had destroyed countless lives. Normal people would be cowering in a corner by now. But he guessed he’d never exactly been one to back down.

What did make him uncomfortable was the way Seungcheol was examining him, like a starving wolf about to eat its prey. He could imagine sharp canines stained as red as his lips, ready to take a bite. 

“Take it out,” he said simply.

“Excuse me?” The quiet force in Seungcheol’s tone nearly caused him to shiver.

“Take your ponytail out,” Seungcheol elaborated, as if it was clearly obvious.

Jeonghan’s eyes widened at the strange request, but did so without saying a word. The blonde hair fell down and swished at his shoulders, strands wet and sticking together due to his time out in the rain.

“Much better,” Seungcheol remarked, though nothing was revealed on his impassive face. He opened the metal door wide for Jeonghan to follow. “I think you could be very useful to me. Now, come meet my men.”

 

\----------

 

Everything else was completely different than the steel, gray room he’d been introduced to before. They’d made their way to a downstairs bar where the bar top’s mahogany shined like it’d just been downed in fresh lacquer, and the massive collection of liquor bottles reflected in the warm light. If the rest of the building was decorated as nice as this, Seungcheol’s enterprise must have been larger and more successful than Wonwoo originally imagined.

A man leaned against a bar stool and slipped a twinkling glass of bourbon, eyes focused on the target ahead of him. Darts.

The man had long black hair, probably straightened and styled to perfection. From behind, he was dressed in all black, easily dissolving into the dark room. Jeonghan’s eyes fixated on the sudden glint of silver twirled in the man’s hand, until it was thrown across the room to the target board. Ah. Not darts, but knives. The silver handle precariously quivered once it was lodged into the cork board.

Jeonghan felt Seungcheol’s voice speaking quietly in his ear. “This is Xu Minghao. He may look like a lanky kid, but he plays the heavy. Gets all sorts of dirty jobs, from murder to extortion.”

Before Jeonghan could process the information, Seungcheol called out, “Minghao,” pulling the man out of his concentration.

“What do yo—Oh, Boss,” Minghao quickly fixing his irritated snapping once he realized who had interrupted him.

Somehow Seungcheol hardly recognized it, breezing past his member’s words as if they always spoke casually. It made him wonder what kind of boss Choi Seungcheol truly was. “This is Park Jeonghan, who applied for the intelligence position.”

As they approached the man and reached closer, he could see Minghao’s feline eyes narrowing, as if he was already criticizing and disapproving, despite the fact that Jeonghan hadn’t said a single word.

“Do you throw knives by chance?” he asked skeptically, as if he already knew the answer just by looking at him. That was when it felt like military training and police academy all over again, being underestimated all over again.

“Well, I’m a bit rusty…” he drawled out. That was, if ‘rusty’ qualified as having basic knife throwing knowledge and that one time he threw a butter knife at an asshole in the military cafeteria, which ended up grazing his shoulder. He caught Minghao’s glance over to Seungcheol that read, _Really, this guy?_

He stepped forward and took the throwing knife extended out to him from Minghao’s slim hand. The intricately engraved handle weighed the weapon down considerably, but still the perfect weight to throw. These had to have been handmade. By balancing it in his index finger, he could tell the center of gravity was far to the left. So he gripped the throwing knife by the lighter blade side, turned to the target, and released the knife as soon as it lined perpendicular with the ground.

Nearly a perfect shot. It landed in the red center circle, right beside Minghao’s throw. Surprisingly, the boy looked impressed. Knife throwing wasn’t very easy to begin with, and Jeonghan knew those weren’t any plain, standard knifes.

Jeonghan turned around to find Seungcheol grinning from his spot at the bar, who didn’t bother hiding it. It was like he’d never underestimated him this whole time.

Minghao’s soft features somehow morphed into something intimidating in the dark setting. “How about this?” he challenged, pulling out a 9mm tucked in the back of his waistband. With the gun in hand, the black clothes, and the inky wisps of his bangs set against his creamy skin make him look like a dark angel. An angel of death, ready to deliver punishment in a multitude of ways. It was intimidating, but somehow beautiful at the same time.

The gun felt more comfortable in his hands. The heavy weight was all too familiar and predictable. Even holding it with his non-dominant hand only was too easy. An exhale, squeeze, and a bullet struck the center point of the target. The board shuddered for a moment and then came crashing to the floor.

“Well, I guess that game is over,” Seungcheol supposed, staring at the fallen board. He looked pointedly toward Minghao. “What do you think?”

“Not awful,” Minghao begrudgingly admitted, which seemed to speak volumes.

The boss rolled his eyes. “Not everyone can be as flawless as your lovely wraith, you know.”

Minghao huffed in agreement and ripped the knives out of the board before snatching his 9mm back up. “I’m going to go train,” he said as he walked away. A bold move, considering he hadn’t been given leave yet by his boss.

“Wraith?” Jeonghan repeated. A nearly untraceable remnant of a thing, a phantom that only appeared in the shadows moments before death.

Seungcheol’s fingers thrummed against the rich wood. “Yes… one of my best. He’s off working a long case, so you won’t meet him any time soon.”

Jeonghan nodded, not wanting to prod any deeper into what could possibly be uncharted territory. He already had information for Wonwoo, and he didn’t want to fuck anything up now. “Seungcheol-ssi,” Jeonghan asked tentatively, “why is everyone here so grumpy?”

The man chuckled fondly at that. “Not all of them. You should meet our sun. He makes things around here a little bit brighter,” he spoke, like he held that person to heart.

He wondered how anyone could make this dark, pitch black place sunny at all, but it wouldn’t take long to find out.

 

\----------

 

That was how he ended up in another exquisite room, Seungcheol having abandoned him like dropping a kid off in daycare.

He sat directly opposite from another kid, who looked younger than all the rest. 18, maybe? He was dressed in a sharp navy suit, more formal than everyone else there except for maybe Seungcheol. The kind was so young, but exuded wealth. His suit probably cost Jeonghan’s monthly rent.

“Come, have a seat,” the boy spoke softly.

The boy regarded him coolly with a faint smile, looking like the paradigm of relaxation despite his sharp suit and rigid stature. In front of him was a book that he had set down, and a silver tray with two teacups and a teapot.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had tea. He didn’t even know anyone who drank tea this fancily. 

The boy seemed to recognize his slight confusion and smiled wider. “I’m Chan.”

“Jeonghan,” he replied, taking a seat across from him.

“Do you like tea?”

Jeonghan shrugged, knowing he probably couldn’t get away with a lie. “Depends.”

“How about Da-Hong Pao?” he suggested.

That left Jeonghan gaping at the swirling amber liquid, probably the most expensive tea in the world. Of course he’d heard of it, but never dreamed of being one of the few high ranking officials or celebrities that had the pleasure of tasting it.

“A small gift from a friend in the Chinese government,” Chan spoke, amused at Jeonghan’s reaction. “Here, it’s getting cold, let me top it off.” Chan grabbed the ornamented teapot and filled the cup closest to Jeonghan’s lightly higher. For his own tea, the boy took several spoonfuls of sugar and swirled it into his drink. It made him cringe looking at it, reminding him of how Mingyu always drank his coffee with a disgusting amount of creamer.

“It must be nice having friends in high places,” Jeonghan said, breaking the momentary silence.

Chan looked up at him between stirs and hummed. “It is a perk.”

“I’m sure Chinese tea isn’t why you joined the mafia though,” Jeonghan confessed, the words spilling out before he was able to stop them. He’d always dug too deep, pried too hard, and it’d always landed him in trouble.

The boy didn’t seem off put by his statement though. It was nice for a change. “No, it wasn’t,” he replied almost too politely, not revealing anything else through his tight lips.

“So why?”

“I didn’t have much of a choice.” Chan smiled again, but there was a hint of sadness in his eyes.

“Everyone has a choice,” Jeonghan urged. It was something he’d always believed. He controlled his life, he made every single decision, and cemented himself in any choice he was given. He’d grown up in horrible circumstances, but that hadn’t stopped him.

Chan shook his head. “You see the world much too black and white then.”

Before he could give him a response, Chan’s phone continually buzzed in his pocket, and he glanced at the call number before getting up. “One moment,” he said, walking across the room.

Jeonghan fiddled with his hands again because there was nothing else to do. But he’d been eyeing those flower-petaled and gold lined ivory teacups and each’s contents. Chan hadn’t sipped his, but the liquid in their cups leveled at the same height. With Chan turned around, Jeonghan quickly picked the cups up without a sound and switched their positions.

The boy returned soon after, straightening out his suit and sitting back down. “My subordinates called. I don’t know why they seem physically and mentally incapable of doing anything on their own,” he muttered, rubbing his temple in exhaustion. 

“This is why I like to work alone,” Jeonghan joked casually.

“How interesting we haven’t heard of you.”

Jeonghan searched for a quick, relatively reasonable response. “I guess that proves how good I am at my job then?”

Chan hummed again, but this time in a more disapproving tone, before sipping on his tea.

Jeonghan gauged every single aspect of Chan, his pupils, lips, skin, body language, hands. But all that happened was Chan began choking.

Choking turned into coughing which turned into laughing before Jeonghan could take it all in. He admitted through choked, choppy laughs, “I guess I must have had low expectations.”

 _Yeah, it seems like everyone here does._ “I had a sneaking suspicion.” So he had… “You poisoned the most expensive tea in the world?” Jeonghan lifted up his teacup and peered inside. It looked completely harmless. He didn't want to know how fast it probably would have killed him.

“I’m not very materialistic. It’s only some leaves. I figured it would be much more entertaining to see what you would do if you realized it was poisoned than just drink some boring tea,” Chan confessed too calmly under the circumstances, waving it all off. He gave him a look which made Jeonghan remember what Seungcheol had said earlier. _The sun._ With a smile from ear to ear, revealing dazzling white, Jeonghan could wash away the boy’s calculated, mature demeanor. He just looked like a happy, beautiful kid.

Chan grinned wider. “You’re lucky I have a growing immunity to poisons. Just imagine what Seungcheol would do if he found out you poisoned his little brother. That would not have been a good first impression on the job.”

“Little brother?” Jeonghan’s face blanched at that, and he swallowed hard, his throat suddenly too dry.

"Nice to meet your acquaintance.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, I have been busy working nonstop
> 
> Comments always appreciated (:


	3. Third Eye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Junhui is welcomed onto the force while some have their suspicions, and Jeonghan is given his first task in the mafia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you call me out for plagiarizing BSD a little bit,,,, you right
> 
> Hopefully this long chapter sorta makes up for the lack of updates??

 

Somehow he ended back on that rainy street corner later that night, the only remnant of the last few hours being a black business card with a single line of text—an address. Without that business card, it was like nothing had ever happened. Everything had just been a ridiculous dream. But the business card.

Even after many persuasive attempts, he’d refused to be driven back to his home. In fact, he’d given them a fake address, one of the random, inconspicuous police safe house apartments scattered among the city. They were hardly used anyway, and he definitely wasn’t going to let them know where he and Suji lived. He’d also refused Seungcheol’s request to have him move into one of the many suites inside the towering building, despite the luxurious benefits. Sure, it’d be less convenient, but that was a line he would never cross.

What was once a deluge dissolved itself into a light sprinkle as he made his way to the nearby subway. Of course it was rush hour, so he was shoved mercilessly into the suffocating subway car. As he gripped the handle bar, he swayed with the car, rubbing his wet raincoat against the other squished passengers. Time lulled and he stared out into the metal beams, the harsh artificial lights, and the bobbing heads. But what was really consuming his mind was the staggering kill count, the bloody shark smile, the knives and poisons that seemed commonplace, and a young boy who’d been forced to grow up way too fast.

With cheeks flushed from the stuffy heat and fingertips freezing from the biting cold rain, he squeezed his eyes tight and prayed that this was all a bad nightmare and the black business card in his coat pocket was only a figment of his imagination.

 

\----------

 

It wasn’t every day that their typical routine was interrupted by very attractive looking Chinese men, but today didn’t seem like a normal day.

Jisoo looked up from the computer at his cubicle to find Captain Wonwoo clearing his throat, typical Wonwoo upcoming announcement style. Beside him was a tall man, probably about the same age as him, dressed in a button down and slacks. Glancing over across the room, he saw Mingyu drooling over Wonwoo per usual. 

The Chinese man roamed his eyes across the room, and locked gazes with Jisoo. He was smiling pleasantly, and it complimented his features, but something about the man’s eyes unnerved him. They were hard and cold, despite his smile. Jisoo shuddered momentarily and broke away. He didn’t like it. No one else seemed to be aware though.

“This is Zhao Jun, everyone. He recently passed the final exam and will now be working in this department. I think he will be a very promising addition to our team,” Wonwoo spoke out, and everyone else nodded and clapped in agreement. Wonwoo continued on for a bit, and Jisoo’d be lying if he said some of it didn’t go in one ear and out the other.

Of course he knew it was natural for new people to come in, training had just ended and there were lots of talented new recruits just waiting to be picked up by the stations. But Jeonghan had only just started his assignment a few days ago, and it somehow felt like he was being replaced. 

The two had been friends for years before Jeonghan got the job. They’d met in the military, and Jisoo was the one who convinced him to join the police. And if Jeonghan managed to pull off this job, it would make that the best advice Jisoo had ever given. 

His coworkers began standing up and giving Jun warm welcomes one by one. He joined the line, and once he stopped at Jun he said, “Welcome to the agency. I’m Jisoo.”

Jun gave him a warm smile, but it didn’t fool him. Those cool eyes regarded him very carefully. “Nice to meet you, Jisoo.”

“You too.” He nodded curtly before going back to his desk. Maybe he would grow on him, if that wasn’t too much to ask for.

“Are you alright, Jisoo?” A voice spoke out above him, and he looked up to see the captain leaning against his cuticle wall. 

“I’m—Actually, can we talk in your office?”

Wonwoo nodded, so they made their way back to his private office. He sat down, running his hands over his face. “I just…” he began, “I don’t like him.”

That made Wonwoo laugh. “Oh really? What has he done?”

“Nothing, but he—”

“Jisoo,” Wonwoo interrupted, shaking his head softly. “What is this really about?”

Jisoo bit his lip, nervously trying to think of a way to make himself sound not crazy. “Look, do we really have to be replacing Jeonghan this soon?”

Wonwoo’s eyes widened, but he still looked amused. “Oh, so this is about Jeonghan now?”

“No, well, _yes,_ but,” Jisoo stuttered.

Was he coming off as an insane person and a questionably obsessed stalker? Maybe. Probably. But still. 

“You know we are known for being the top police station in the city, right? Yes, Jeonghan is a great new asset for us, but he can only focus on one case right now. We’re understaffed. And we need all the talent here we can get. In fact, Jun’s score report was amazing, if not even better than Jeonghan’s.”

What? Jisoo leaned forward in his chair. He could feel his face getting heated. “An asset? Is he just some tool you picked because he had an A+, and now you’re forgetting about him already? So that you can replace him with that stuck-up looking guy—”

“Jisoo!” Wonwoo berated, and nothing was more terrified than Wonwoo’s face when he was angry. It was like his eyes were glazed with fire and burning into his skull. “What has gotten into you? And what the hell are you talking about? Jeonghan is doing the most valuable thing in this department right now. I have spent years trying to prepare for what Jeonghan has now begun.”

When they’d found out that Jeonghan had gotten in, they were shocked. Not necessarily surprised, per say, but amazed that it had actually happened. And now they had more information on Seungcheol, some of his men, and his younger brother they didn’t even know existed. They knew it was only going to get better, too. But if he got caught… Who knows what could happen. They could kill him, they could target the station, they could do anything.

And now everything was on the line. Maybe he was just too worried. “I’m sorry,” he breathed out, closing his eyes to regain his thoughts (and his composure).

“It’s alright.” Wonwoo’s voice softened a bit, and he smiled gently. It was amazing how quickly he could go from absolutely terrifying to sickeningly soft. He always acted stern and serious with his stone cold expressions, but he genuinely cared about all of them. Even the new recruits. 

So under Wonwoo, Jeonghan would be okay. _Should_ be.

 

\----------

 

“We’re about to go out tonight, after the shift ends. You coming?” asked Mingyu, tearing Jisoo away from his ever expanding pile of paperwork. 

“Uh, what?” He blinked quickly in confusion. The exhaustion was probably evident in his sleepy, cloudy eyes.

“You know, for the new recruit,” said Mingyu.

“Oh. Him,” Jisoo said pointedly, looking back down at his work. Of course they’d have to go out drinking whenever there was a new employee. Customary, but draining. He didn’t even like alcohol anyway, or being social after a long day at work, or Jun. And there was no getting out of drinking or socializing at hweshiks.

“I’m busy. I need to go grocery shopping and feed my cat,” he lamely supplied.

Mingyu rolled his eyes hard. “Seriously? Come on. Please go with me, Jeonghan won’t be there, and I don’t want to be around Wonwoo alone.”

“I’m pretty sure you won’t be alone at a _group_ dinner.” 

Sometimes it astounded him how the station’s police deputy was also a whining, kid-like puppy. At times it was extremely hard to take him seriously. 

“Hansol!” Jisoo called out, which caused the teenager to perk up and look over in their direction, confused. He plucked one of his earbuds out to hear what he would say. “Why don’t you go out with the rest of the station tonight?”

That made the boy smile. He was just a kid in awe of his adult superiors, and he barely ever got included. So the times that he was, it was like a special golden invitation he couldn’t deny. He nodded eagerly in reply before sticking his earbud back in.

Jisoo looked back at Mingyu. “There you go. Hansol’s going, and he’s you’re friend.”

He couldn’t help crack a grin at Mingyu’s glum expression. “Seriously? Hansol isn’t even legal.”

“Well I’m sure you’ll figure that out,” said Jisoo with a pursed smile, done with the conversation and ready to spin his chair away when Mingyu stopped him.

“Wait!” Mingyu pleaded. “Please. You won’t even have to stay long.”

That was a lie, considering company dinners almost always lasted the entire night. “Why do you even care so much?” Jisoo asked, squinting his eyes at Mingyu as if it’d reveal an answer.

“I don’t know! It would be nice to at least get to sort of know the guy that’s going to be working alongside us now!” Mingyu threw up his hands in exasperation.

“Oh yeah, _that’s_ it. You’re allowed to say it’s because he’s hot, you know. It’s not like everyone here doesn’t already know you flirt with every single attractive person you lay your eyes on.”

“Oh my god, that’s not it.”

“Really?” He cocked his head, egging him to go on.

“Okay, maybe he _is_ slightly attractive, but that’s not the main reason!”

“And here I was, thinking you’d set your sights on Wonwoo,” he mused.

“Shh!” Mingyu quickly shot back, looking around to see if anyone was within earshot.

Messing around with Mingyu was amusing, but he could see the pleading look in the younger boy’s eyes. “Fine,” he muttered, standing up to gather his things.

Mingyu’s face lit up. “Thank you hyung!”

He knew he was definitely going to regret this.

Soon they were all driving to a little hole-in-the-wall restaurant with a kind old lady that instantly got excited once they walked in. Jisoo swore that as soon as they sat down on the floor, drinks were already being rushed out. 

He wasn’t sure why he agreed to doing this for Mingyu. Drinking business culture was exhausting, with all its tricky rules and etiquettes and procedures. As he had lived in America for a significant part of his life, it’d taken him forever to learn and perfect hweshiks. And he still dreaded them. You were pressured to go, you were forced to drink, and you are never allowed to leave. On top of it all, you were surrounded by all your coworkers and superiors, and you didn’t want to smudge your professional reputation by forgetting to pour the alcohol correctly or getting outrageously drunk. 

Though he supposed it would be interesting to learn a little more about his new coworker. Being the main guest, Jun sat across from Wonwoo. He wasn’t exactly sure what was so off putting about him, but Mingyu wasn’t to blame for being attracted. He had the sharp face of an actor, the lean body of a dancer, and a soft lilting voice with faint traces of an accent. But who knew, maybe his perfect composure would unravel after a few drinks.

“So why did you move to Korea?” Jisoo asked abruptly after they’d finished their first round of drinks.

Jun flicked his attention over to him and smiled casually. “Oh, just work opportunities. And I think I needed a change in scenery.”

Someone asked where he’d worked previously before Jisoo could question him again. “What did you do for work?”

“Oh, it’s so random, I doubt you’d ever be able to guess,” Jun replied before grabbing some food from the center of the table.

Of course, that set off a long chain of guesses which Jun vetoed each and every time. Dancer, actor, martial arts teacher, no. Accountant, security officer, retail worker, no. Bartender, writer, designer, no. Wonwoo had to know, right? He’d hired him after all. But the man just sat back and watched, amused.

“Ooh! Were you an idol trainee?” A girl piped up. One of the front desk secretaries.

That made Jun laugh. “I could never, but thank you, that’s flattering.”

“Well I mean, you _totally_ could. You’ve got the face, the hair, the height. I bet you’d be an amazing dancer,” the girl gushed.

Mingyu had to stifle a snort as Jisoo rolled his eyes at the obvious fawning going on.

“And your watch is beautiful,” another girl contributed. He looked over and noticed the shiny silver Rolex on his wrist. It made him remember the trip he’d taken with his family to New York as a teenager, walking down Canal Street and watching people haggle over the prices of fake watches and designer handbags. But the hands on those watches always ticked. Jun’s slowly rotated without ever stopping. A very good counterfeit, or a real one. He doubted it was the former though.

Too bad it was inappropriate to ask a new coworker which parent all their money came from.

Soon, new drinks were being poured all around, and Jisoo looked pleadingly at Mingyu. Following etiquette, Mingyu twisted around to drink his accepted glass, and then when no one was paying attention, switched his and Jisoo’s cups.

He mouthed a thank you, though he knew he wouldn’t be able to help him later when someone suggested drinking games. Honestly, he was more worried about Hansol, who sat on the other side of Mingyu and was giggling way too much to be sober.

Soon everyone was taking turns pouring soju into a shot glass in a half full glass of beer. By Mingyu’s turn, the shot glass shuddered and leaned to one side. Hansol sent the shot sinking, and they watched as the pour kid had to drink a whole glass of somaek.

Then they were playing chopsticks and he could feel the dizziness in his head after several shots. After Mingyu pointed his chopsticks at him for “most likely to take an hour long shower”, he shot back with “the highest number of one night stands” when it was his turn. Everyone pointed at Mingyu, who side-glared him. He didn’t even want to know the amount of people, men or women, that he’d secretly hooked up with in the office.

Time ticked by so slowly on his own cheap watch, as his speech began to slur and his vision blur harder. He stood up abruptly and grabbed Hansol, who was about to tell an audience of coworkers some extremely embarrassing secrets.

He tried not to sway too much and act as sober as possible. “Hansol told me earlier that his curfew is 11, so I think I need to get him home,” he announced to the table’s dismay.

Wonwoo said it was alright though, so he said goodnight and took Hansol outside.

“Where do you live?”

“Wha?”

God, this was going to be interesting. “Hansol, where do you live?”

“Uh, Buam-dong,” he slurred, surprising Jisoo. He’d expected something flashier, busier, closer to the city. Sometimes he forgot Hansol was just a normal kid with a normal family, a high schooler who was probably studying for the CSAT and worrying about talking to girls.

They caught a bus headed north and Hansol was almost dozing off by the time he sat down. Jisoo stared out the window, watching them move farther and farther away from the busy city and into the quiet mountains. He sat and wondered what Jeonghan was doing, somewhere off in the wild metropolis. Wondered if he was alright.

The bus lurched to a stop in Guam-dong, and Jisoo had to lug a half-drunk half-asleep Hansol out. Thanks to Hansol’s mumbled directions, they arrived at a simple brick home tucked among other houses and apartments on a steep incline. As soon as he could open the front gate, they heard his mother coming out to scathe him. “Yah! Hansol! Do you know how late it is? Where were you?”

“Uh, well—” Hansol laughed, then stumbled against Jisoo.

“Are you _drunk?_ I can’t believe you! Wait till your father hears about this.”

Mrs. Chwe’s eyes looked like they were drilling through Hansol’s skull, and he felt bad. “I’m sorry ma’am, he got looped into this work thing and—”

She took one glance at his work attire and groaned. “Oh, so this is Wonwoo’s fault?” She shook her head and yanked Hansol inside the gate. “I’m going to give your uncle a piece of my mind!” 

Ah, so they _were_ related. Hansol’s mother looked back at Jisoo again and smiled. “Thank you for getting him home safely,” she said before closing the gate, berating her son even further, and leaving Jisoo in the cold night to find his way back home.

 

\----------

 

Everything was different the second time around. Finally an address to where Seungcheol’s organization worked, and it was right out in the open. Just another high rise building right in the middle of Seoul, hidden in plain sight. 

Shiny, fresh window panels blasting his reflection right back at him. He wondered what he’d see inside if the glass wasn’t tinted.

He wasn’t sure what he expected there to be when he walked inside, but it wasn’t a luxurious lobby with rotating doors, gold chandeliers, and patterned tile floors. He slowly walked over to the front desk with a young pretty attendant. 

She looked up as soon as she heard him approaching and smiled. “Hi! Are you checking into a room today?”

“Um… No?” The confusion must have been blaringly evident on his face.

“I’m sorry sir, who are you here to see?”

“Choi Seungcheol.”

“Ah!” The girl then lowered her voice so no passerbys could possibly overhear them. “I think you’re the guy Mr. Choi said he was expecting today. Blonde, and very good-looking,” she giggled. “Anyway, please take the elevator on the left to floor seventeen.”

He thanked her, and she called out a “Good luck!” from behind him.

“Wait, what? What do I need good luck for?” He turned around to question what exactly she meant, but she’d already left the desk.

On floor seventeen, he was met with a much simpler, smaller lobby. And empty, beside for Choi Seungcheol lounging in one of the red armchairs. He looked strangely comfortable, even in a full suit, like a model on some editorial photo shoot.

“Ah, Jeonghan! You made it,” he said, getting up and dusting some lint off his jacket Jeonghan couldn’t even see.

“So a hotel?”

“A good front, don’t you agree?”

He wasn’t sure what he’d expected. After all, he’d known that they couldn’t just broadcast the fact that a high rise in the middle of Seoul was owned and operated by the mafia. “It’s very nice. Do you get any actual people wanting to stay here?”

“Of course, but not many,” said Seungcheol. “You know, I’m not so sure why you won’t just stay here,” he added, giving him a teasing smile.

“I told you, I can’t,” he refused politely. “Plus, I like where I live now.”

“You know, I’m pretty sure you’d love this place a lot more.”

Jeonghan rolled his eyes. They’d already been through this, but Seungcheol seemed to refuse to listen. Maybe he would like this place better, No, he definitely would. But there was Suji, always looming in the back of his mind.

“Whatever you say. I have something for you, so follow me.” Seungcheol led them back to the elevator and pressed the level below the garage. The elevator ride was long, and it was odd for bad elevator music to be playing while he stood next to a dangerous murderer. What made it all even scarier was the dangerous murderer’s soft smile that never left his face. Like he could be any random, normal man on the street, passing by everyone and anyone undetected.

The underground basement was dark, with a heavy steel door and no other exits. He knew he couldn’t escape if he tried.

“I didn’t want to start your first day off so hard. This is all pretty simple. The man tied to a chair in there is Lee Dong-hyul, a business partner of ours. He stole some money from us, and now I need you to kill him,” he stated simply.

Jeonghan’s eyes widened. “Me? Why me?”

The man shrugged without a care. “Why not?”

They entered, and the steel door sealed tight behind them as if the room was soundproof. The only sounds left were the sharp clicks of Seungcheol’s dress shoes and the strained breaths of the man in front of him. The dim light made it hard to tell, but once he stepped forward, he saw his face. An older man, probably in his fifties, sporting bruises and a black eye. The tear tracks down his face made him a pitiful sight.

Without looking at Seungcheol, he pulled the man out of the man’s mouth. The man let out ragged huffs, looked up at him, and croaked a hoarse “please.” 

He didn’t know what he’d done. He’d probably done a lot of horrible things, considering he was connected to the mafia. But he was still a man. With a wife, kids, grandkids maybe. He’d never killed anyone before. Shot at, yes. But killing was a whole different thing entirely.

Seungcheol took a Beretta from his waistband and handed it over. It was heavy. And loaded. He tried not to gulp hard in front of the man and Seungcheol. 

“Please, you don’t have to do this,” the man with shining eyes and blubbering lips choked out, struggling against the tied-down chair. 

He was aware of his right hand shaking slightly as he lifted up the gun and aimed in between the man’s wide eyes. His heart felt like it was about to jump out of his chest but he took a breath and said, “I’m sorry, but I do.”

The trigger squeezed before the man could plead anything else, two shots firing into his forehead. The movies never really depict the sound, the loud ringing in his ears that drowned out everything else and echoed throughout his head. At least Seungcheol looked satisfied.

The dead man sagged in his seat, slumped back pathetically. The bleeding wound in his forehead looked like a third eye, like the man was staring deep into his soul and accusing him of some horrific guilt. Seeing through him, Yoon Jeonghan, officially guilty of murder. And his eyes, still open wide like those dead fish at the seafood market, limp and lifeless.

Quickly, he turned to Seungcheol so that he wouldn’t have to face what he’d done any longer. His face revealed nothing, but he assured him that someone would be down to clean up the mess later. He handed the gun back, they got onto the elevator, and the doors slid shut as Seungcheol pressed floor seventeen.

The ringing in his ears hadn’t stopped, and the space between them was deafening by floor eight. He looked down to see tiny spots of blood on his hands, as he gripped onto the gold rail until his knuckles turned white, trying to stand steady as if he was trying to act sober while drunk.

“Jeonghan,” he heard Seungcheol say above the ringing, which caused him to automatically turn his head toward the other man.

“Yes?” he asked, but Seungcheol didn’t answer, instead stepping forward and lifting up a hand to wipe away the back spatter on his face. As if he hadn’t felt sick already, his lungs seemed to close up and stop him from breathing and his stomach was doing somersaults.

He wanted to scream at him to stop, but after what’d happened in the basement, all his systems had gone haywire and no sound could escape his throat. The fingers brushing across his face were surprisingly softer than he’d expected (not that he’d expected anything or wondered about it at all). Roaming over his cheek bone, the bridge of his nose, his forehead. Fingers pulling away with smudges of red.

“There you go,” he spoke finally, dropping his hands back to his sides and the elevator doors dinged open. “I have something to attend to, but you should wait here.”

“Actually, where is the bathroom?” Jeonghan asked abruptly, and as soon as Seungcheol had given him directions and walked off casually as if nothing had just happened in the last few minutes, he ran into it.

Throwing up the contents of his stomach into the first urinal he could reach, he was eternally grateful the bathroom was empty. All of his lunch and bottled up fear was disposed in the basin, laid bare for him to smell as he gripped painfully onto the sides and waited for another wave of nausea to hit him. He thought his stomach was about to lurch again when the door opened.

A man with honey blonde hair walked in and stopped suddenly once he saw Jeonghan kneeling on the floor. A moment later, his expression changed as if he had just gained understanding. He looked down on Jeonghan and the pathetic view. “A mafia man who throws up at the sight of death? I’ve certainly never seen that one before. That, or a bulimic with very inconvenient timing,” he poorly joked.

Jeonghan was too shocked and embarrassed to immediately respond. He didn’t even know what to say. The man must have caught Jeonghan’s panic stricken face before he amusedly laughed and stepped closer. He lowered his voice as if to share some confidential information, even though they were the only two in the bathroom. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep your secret safe.”

He tried to snap back into it and sat up a little, wiping his mouth and flushing the urinal. “How did you know? I didn’t see you earlier.”

“Oh,” he waved it off dismissively, “everyone has to kill on their first day.”

“Oh,” Jeonghan echoed back, eyes falling down to the marble floor.

The man’s eyes narrowed as he gazed at him, head tilted. He looked like he was trying to extract some sort of information from Jeonghan’s face. “There’s a bet on you, you know,” he spoke nonchalantly, opting to lean against the tile wall.

That caused Jeonghan’s head to snap up. “Excuse me?”

The man, who honestly didn’t look much older than him, gave him a lopsided grin. “Yeah, everyone wants to know how long you’ll last.”

Jeonghan’s brow furrowed. “And what did you bet?”

“A week. But judging by the current situation, I should have bet lower.”

He knew he would have scoffed at that only the day before. Now… he wasn’t so sure.

Jeonghan didn’t respond, and the man looked almost sympathetic. “It gets harder… I hope you’re ready.”

He wanted to groan and pull his hair out. “What do you mean?”

“The typical kill protocol here is much worse. First you shatter their jaw on the curb, then shoot them three times in the chest.”

“That’s…”

“Violent?” he supplied. “It’s not like you applied to Pizza Hut.”

Jeonghan pressed his lips and clenched his fists on the bathroom floor. “Who even are you?”

“Minhyuk.” He shrugged. “Just a soldier, not anything special, though I know some of the higher ups. I’m assigned on most of the missions. Maybe you’ll get to join. That is,” he added, “if you make it that far.”

Somehow he managed the nerve to push himself off the floor while gritting his teeth, and then spitting some of the excess bile into the basin. “Actually, some advice? I think you should up your wager,” he replied harshly before walking out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took the breaking the jaw on the concrete curb and shooting them 3 times from the Port Mafia ok gfdjks they actually said that in either the anime or the manga.....
> 
> ANYWAY I know it has been a while since I updated (both fics). Life's insane okay, I'm trying my best, I promise, but I'm also dealing with a lot of other stuff atm so writing has been hard.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it! Feel free to leave comments/thoughts/opinions, I love reading them and they truly make my day


	4. China Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minghao, Jeonghan, and Seungkwan are sent out on an assignment. Junhui does a little social engineering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew I know its been a LONG time since I last updated but this one is pretty long so! (: enjoy

 

He remembered bits and pieces of Shenzhen—like a slowing fading dream, he’d begun forgetting more and more over time. But yet he still thought about it in both his sleep and waking hours, wondering how much different his life could have been.

Were the gaps in his memory simply a result of time? Or due to him desperately trying to block out his past? He remembered pieces of the good parts. The bad parts too. Maybe he’d forgotten it all because everything from that time was a gray, mediocre blur. The blur that occurred before his life truly started in Busan.

He was only about fifteen when he left. Yet he’d still been a stupid boy. A poor one, too, walking about the city, just itching for trouble. He remembered skipping around in the hot summers drinking fruit teas and splashing through the water fountains by Shenzhen Bay that no one was supposed to play in, but all the kids did anyway. Sometimes he liked to wake up early and watch the older folks doing tai chi on his way to school. Maybe it wasn’t perfect. The river pollution was bad, at least bad then. Or the cigarette smells of all the workers on their breaks. But that was years ago, and Shenzhen had changed. So had he.

He remembered being out around Guangzhou Station in Luohu at night, one of the old industrial districts. He knew he shouldn’t have been there, but he was out there anyway, desperately trying to find some scrappy job to help his mother out. His searches were answered in the form of a middle aged man promising work right across the border of Shenzhen into Hong Kong. It sounded okay.

Yes, how stupid he’d been. Everything became one big blur when a two hour van ride turned into a fifteen hour one, where he begged them to take him back, to bring him home. There were other people in the van too, even some kids his age, and they all looked terrified. No one listened to any of their pleading. Actually, they slapped them instead and told them to shut up. For fifteen hours, he didn’t know where he was going or what they’d be doing with him.

When the van finally opened, he’d been shoved into some gray warehouse to work. He vaguely remembered it taking him weeks to figure out where he was. Shanghai. Weeks after that, he’d managed to run off and scramble enough money together for a decent plane ticket.

Staring at the departures board of the Shanghai airport, he combed through all the destinations in an attempt to find a good place to go. For some reason, he couldn’t go back to Shenzhen. Too much had happened, time had past, and he needed to escape to somewhere new. In his mind, his life in China had been tainted with a grotesque smear. But Korea wasn’t far. 

He sat on the plane, wedged all the way in the back with a tiny window, and watched the construction of the frame of the eventual Shanghai Tower shrink far away into nothingness. They said it’d be the tallest skyscraper in the world once they finished. He couldn’t have cared less.

Then he’d landed in Busan, and once again, he was just a kid trying to make a buck. But it was hard to find any good businesses that wanted to recruit some scrawny teenage Chinese boy off the street. But it only took him a few months to discover some of the darker sides of Korea. Girls and boys selling sex at massage parlors and salons and bars and host and hostess clubs. 

A man found him working in a host bar at eighteen. Most of the people that came in looking to talk (or looking for something more) were middle aged women, but he didn’t mind. At some point the boys working there were informed that a very young but successful, dangerous man would be coming in, and they were expected to be working their best. Pissing someone important off would not be good, and if he liked them, he could potentially bring them in a lot of new customers. He was surprised though when the very good looking young man walked in and approached him.

“So what’s your name?” the young man asked with curved, upturned lips and an unusual curiosity in his eyes. He looked up from another customer to glance briefly in the man’s direction and did a double-take. He was possibly the most beautiful man he’d seen.

“Zhang lei,” he responded slowly, but not as smoothly as normal. His nerves probably showing. He wasn’t typically so nervous.

“Hm. I’ll pay whatever you like to talk to you now,” the man suggested, pulling out what he immediately recognized as one of those maxless credit cards some of their patrons owned. Usually he wouldn’t cut off a conversation with a current customer, but that thick plastic credit card waving almost teasingly in the air was incentive enough to abandon the woman in front of him.

“How much?” he smirked, walking up to him with a sway of his hips, trying to fake confidence the best he could, and snatching the man’s credit card from his well groomed nails.

The man shrugged. “Just say a number.”

The host leaned forward so that his breath was flush against the man’s ear. He could see out of the corner of his eye one of his friendly coworkers giving him a pointed look that was practically telling him _you’re going too far with this one,_ but he ignored it. “One million won?”

At first he thought the man would refuse, but he quickly nodded in agreement.

“Good choice,” he said with a smile, quickly running his card and pulling him off somewhere quieter.

They talked for several hours, moving to one of the back rooms. For some reason, the man always wanted to talk about _him_. Most clients were there to relieve stress and talk about their troubles. But the man asked him about everything, his entire life, how he’d made it to where he was. After much reluctance, he told him about Shenzhen and Shanghai and Busan.

Soon he directed their conversation into an alluring offer, hoping the heavy eye makeup or hair styling or revealing clothes would persuade him, but the man refused. “I don’t want that kind of thing. I want to help you instead. I want to get you out of here.”

The words that came out of his mouth surprised him so hard he wanted to cry. He choked out an “Excuse me?” 

“You deserve better than this,” he insisted. “I can’t assume you the life I can offer you is all safe and legal. But it will be a whole lot better than this shit hole, I can promise you that.”

“I—”

He’d never considered he’d leave. Despite the job being draining and overall shitty, it paid alright and he’d made friends. He just hoped to get by, and maybe one day move to Seoul to work in the Gangnam district where all the real host clubs were at.

“Please think of it. I’ll be back in a week,” the man said. He reached for something on the inside of his jacket, and pulled out a black business card. “Here.”

_Choi Seungcheol_

Choi Seungcheol, an angel delivered to him in a devilish black suit.

“So what’s your real name?” Seungcheol asked again before standing up to leave. 

He wanted to laugh and cry and smile at the absurdity all at the same time. “Wen Junhui.”

 

\----------

 

“Look,” Jihoon said, holding up what looked like to be a flash drive. “This is _not_ a USB. The coding inside this hardware is designed to make the computer recognize it as a keyboard. It’s called a rubber ducky.”

Junhui snorted and Jihoon rolled his eyes. “Can you please just focus and pay attention? This is important, and if you don’t listen to me, you’ll have no idea what you’re doing later.

“Lucky for you, I already installed the script so you don’t have to do much of the work. Now, you’re going to have to do this while his computer is unlocked and not turned off, or else it’ll be useless. All you have to do is insert it into the computer and wait fifteen seconds for the payload to retrieve all the clear text credentials from memory. So we’ll have access to the hashes, passwords, domains, all of that. You just need to get him distracted away from his computer. Shouldn’t be too hard for you, right?”

“That’s my specialty,” Jun shot back almost coquettishly, causing Jihoon to scowl at him.

“Gross.”

“Actually, it’s pretty fun, seducing and manipulating people. Makes you feel powerful.”

“Yet my rank makes me automatically more powerful than you.”

“Ugh, Jihoon,” Junhui groaned, standing up to snatch the fake USB from Jihoon’s side of the table and stuff it in his pocket. “You’re not exciting anymore. Remember Busan?”

Jihoon snapped his head up from his laptop at the comment and scowled. “We’re not in Busan anymore. We were all stupid back then.”

“Please, you just say that cause you’re embarrassed of how in looove you were.” He giggled. “Well. _Still are._ ”

“For the love of god, please shut up.”

“You know I’m right!”

“I could get you fired right here, right now.”

“Okay, go ahead and explain to it to Seungcheol.”

He glared at him dangerously. If looks could kill… “We’ve changed,” he said offhandedly. “It would have never lasted. He hardly even listens to me now.”

“See? This is _exactly_ why you need to learn the art of seduction,” Jun pointed out, grinning. “You’d have him wrapped around your finger again, just like old times. That’s a lot of power.”

“I don’t want power. That’s not what I do all this for. Plus, you know you’re basically talking treason, right?”

“What is life living for without wanting more power? Power got me from a poor orphan to a host club worker to a member of an organization worth millions,” Junhui mused, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall from where Jihoon sat, staring down at him. “What motivates you?”

“I don’t know.” 

“You can say our boss, you know. I won’t judge.”

“Why are you so fixated on the past? Are you not happy with where you are now?” Jihoon asked, avoiding Junhui’s last comment, going back to typing away on his laptop.

“What, are you trying to say I should be grateful I’m not still living in poverty? That I’m not grateful for this opportunity?” Junhui laughed almost mockingly. “I am. But I got here by taking what I wanted. I’m just saying, I think you should do the same.”

Jihoon didn’t look up. “Just plant the damn rubber ducky.”

 

\----------

 

Somehow, sitting in a room full of criminals wasn’t as intimidating as Jeonghan had expected it to be. Maybe it was because some of them looked so young. Or that two of them were flinging a pen at each other across the conference table as Jeonghan and Seungcheol entered the room.

Seungcheol paused at the door, and Jeonghan was afraid he’d go off at them, but he just sighed and shook his head with a slight smile.

There was a seat left for Seungcheol at the far end of the conference table, and one open near the door next to an orange-haired boy he hadn’t met yet. At least the boy smiled at him as he sat down, offering an ounce of comfort as Minghao seemed to still be glaring daggers. He looked beautiful, almost as if he was some famous idol.

“Thank you all for coming,” Seungcheol said casually, reclining in his seat.

Chan snorted. “Well it’s not like we had a choice.”

Jihoon hit his arm from the chair beside him and Chan whined. 

“Now, Jeonghan, you still haven’t met Seungkwan,” completely ignoring Chan’s comment, Seungcheol paused to glare at the blonde boy, making him freeze in the process of launching the pen back at Chan, “my lovely negotiator and assistant.”

Chan gave him a shit eating grin from across the table and Seungkwan’s eyes narrowed. Yeah, Chan had been trained since birth to kill and run a criminal organization, but the kid was a little brat. But maybe a teenage spitfire was what this rigid, unrelenting place needed. No one else was smiling in here.

“Yes, I’m Boo Seungkwan,” he said after turning to Jeonghan and offering him a tight-lipped smile. It wasn’t long before he’d turned back to Chan again.

Seungcheol looked like he’d expected nothing less. “Then there is Jooheon, Changkyun, and Kihyun.” He gestured to the two in front of him and one beside him. “They oversee my main separate units. Kihyun here is my star with all the connections in the political and entertainment worlds. His wealthy family is virtually untouchable. Changkyun runs and secures our hotel front and manages all my other businesses and properties around the city. And Jooheon handles all the dirty work and is the best racketeer I know.”

Jooheon and Changkyun just nodded, while Kihyun beside him flashed him a pearly-white grin. Jeonghan never followed any of the celebrities, but the guy really did look like a star. The other two could have been his intimidating bodyguards.

Seungcheol moved on quickly. “Anyway, now you know everyone in the main circle. Minghao, Seungkwan, I need you to go down to the shipping docks today. The shipment from China for us should have arrived this morning. Just make sure everything checks out. And take Jeonghan with you.”

“Is that really necessary?” Minghao questioned as politely as impossible, as if not wanting to overstep his position.

It was a vague question, but Seungcheol knew it was about taking Jeonghan with them. “Yes. It should be easy. We need to start him there before we get to the fun stuff, don’t we?” The boss tilted his head, and there lied an unsettling curve to his red lips.

“Excuse me?” Jeonghan spoke up. He’d caught himself staring at Seungcheol’s lips and now Seungcheol seemed to be staring right back at him.

“I have a meeting with a potential new buyer this weekend at Diamond,” Seungcheol answered after he glanced away from Jeonghan. “I’ll be taking you, Seungkwan, Jihoon, and maybe a few others.”

Oh, so he meant _that_ kind of fun. He knew of the nightclub; it was so exclusive that only the most wealthy and beautiful were admitted in. 

“Hyung~” Chan cooed from down the table. “Please let me go, I really want to.”

“You’re not even legal,” Seungkwan snickered, to which Chan scowled, all the aegyo immediately washed away.

“Are we really concerned about legality now?” he shot back.

“If I snuck you in, we wouldn’t have anyone to babysit you after you ended up running up the tab with drinks,” Seungcheol mused. 

The youngest groaned and slumped against the table. “Oh my god, that was _one_ time—”

“And when you were making out with that random g—” Seungkwan butted in before Chan shot him a death glare.

“Or sabotaged the entire deal,” Jihoon grumbled.

“Fine! Fine. Don’t accept my company,” Chan said, raising his hands and backing off. 

Seungcheol rolled his eyes at the dramatic display. It was interesting to Jeonghan to observe his behaviors—how far he would go with his little brother’s antics and how easily he could shut all emotions off. His brain was accumulating mental notes to report to Wonwoo. It was all a job, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be a little fascinated with Choi Seungcheol.

 

\----------

 

His feet paced against cold, wet cement. The clouds were forming a dreary gray blanket across the sky and he prayed it wouldn’t rain again.

Jeonghan’s brow furrowed as he curled his arms around himself tighter. “What exactly are we looking for?”

He wasn’t sure if Minghao’s resting face was typically a look of disgust or not. “Seungcheol said it should be a white container with COSCO in blue lettering.”

“That sounds easy then!” Seungkwan chirped. The boy seemed happy to talk, and Jeonghan would have considered it borderline obnoxious if he wasn’t the relieving third party between him and Minghao.

“There are literally thousands of containers here, Seungkwan,” Minghao pointed out bluntly, and the boy wasn’t wrong. They stood in the yard, surrounded by a multitude of colors of giant, stacked shipping containers. 

“He said it was sectioned off though, right? Near the end of Pier 1?” Jeonghan asked.

“Yes. Let’s hurry. I don’t want anyone stopping us.” They’d dressed in standard uniforms with cheap safety jackets and tried to walk as casually as possible to blend in.

Reaching the end of the row, their vision was just a tunnel of container colors. That was, until they reached a final COSCO box near the end of the line. It looked completely inconspicuous, like all the others. He wondered what exactly sat inside all of the containers, how many of them were being transported by dirty businesses. Probably more than the general public should ever be aware of.

“How do you even open this?” Seungkwan sighed exhaustedly after trying to pull on the door. 

Minghao just looked at him as if he had three eyes in his head. “Why are you even here?”

“I don’t know!” Seungkwan threw up his hands. “Diplomacy? If we come across actual workers or officials or something?”

The black-haired boy just muttered something and told Seungkwan to move aside. Jeonghan didn’t know if he felt better knowing Minghao acted like this toward Seungkwan too or not. Yet there was no real malice in his voice. They’d probably known each other for years. He wondered what it would be like for him to get a kind word. After all, what had he ever done to him?

Minghao unlocked the container with ease, and Jeonghan was able to see a sliver of the inside behind him. There just seemed to be bundles and boxes.

After a moment of peering inside, Minghao froze. “Get away, now.”

Jeonghan had had plenty of training to know what that meant without even looking. He grabbed Seungkwan in front of him by the back of his jacket and yanked him forward, causing him to stumble. He was able to pull the boy with him down the aisle a few yards before a small detonator caused the container to blow up and go up in flames.

He wasn’t hurt, but his brain felt so disoriented, as if he was swimming and sinking in cold water. Seungkwan only seemed to be sporting a scraped arm beside him on the cement, which he could accept. Minghao was on the other side of the container cursing, gripping his leg where a piece of shrapnel seemed to be lodged.

“Don’t get your blood _anywhere,_ Seungkwan,” Jeonghan advised wearily. The other started immediately wrapping his lower arm with a piece of his fabric. He was confident Minghao already knew to do the same. He already knew this wouldn’t be good. Leaving blood would make it even worse.

While glancing at the shipping container, he noticed a boy coming out from behind another one of the shipping containers with a Beretta, getting ready to aim it at Minghao. 

Jeonghan fumbled beneath his layers to grab the gun tucked inside his waistband. It was a shaky shot from the ground, but he managed to unlock the safety and squeeze the trigger, hitting the boy in the lower abdomen. He didn’t want him dead immediately, but he didn’t want to miss by going for the thigh. The kid crumpled to the ground like paper, but it wasn’t long before he started to get back up. 

Seungkwan was behind him with wide eyes like a deer caught in the headlights. Jeonghan was sure he’d seen way worse things than this, considering his employer, but he probably hadn’t expected this to happen. While the attacker had turned in Jeonghan’s direction, Minghao knocked the gun out of his hands, sending it skidding away. He began to fight as Minghao pinned him to the ground, but it was useless. The assassin already had a knife at his throat before the guy could even make a move.

“Who the fuck are you?” Minghao hissed. The kid gulped, and Minghao pressed the blade harder, causing red beads to form across soft skin. From close up, Jeonghan could see the boy was Chinese.

The boy didn’t answer, instead letting out a choked laugh, causing some blood to bubble from his mouth. “I have a message for your boss. We won’t be delivering until he holds up his end of the deal.”

“Fuck,” Minghao said, seeming to summarize all of the three’s thoughts as he looked up at the exploded container of cargo. He pulled back the knife and started binding the boy’s stomach, which was turning a sickening red. He turned his head around to Seungkwan. “Give me your construction jacket.”

“Why me?” he exclaimed. Yet he did what he was told, handing the sickeningly neon orange jacket to Minghao to put on the injured boy.

Minghao told the other two to help him get the boy to stand up, supporting him on each side. Then he glared at the kid with his dark stare. “If you give us away, I won’t hesitate to—”

“To what?” The boy sneered. “Kill me in front of all the workers that are going to arrive any second?”

Minghao dug his hand in the boy’s stomach, almost causing him to keel over. “If you don’t want to die, shut up.”

They were all silent after that, weaving their way through the containers, away from where people would be arriving. The boy Jeonghan was supporting looked like he was about to pass out any second, but an employee paid them little notice as he fled by them toward the steady growing fire. Minghao was limping slightly beside him. He’d almost forgotten he had been injured. Suddenly he wished Seungkwan could be saying something, anything.

They were silently directed down the pier and along a series of warehouses in front of the water. It wasn’t long until they could hear an alarm going off behind them from the shipping yard. Jeonghan’s breath hitched when he noticed a security camera at the top of one of the buildings, and Minghao noticed.

“Jihoon will take care of it,” said Minghao, bringing them to a stop in a shadowed area behind one of the warehouses. “Though things don’t usually get this sloppy.”

“You’re not really going to let him go alive, are you?” Jeonghan whispered beside Minghao.

“Oh, of course not,” he smirked.

“Who is this kid?”

“Clearly from the company Seungcheol is trading with. Never seen him before though.”

“What company? And what is Seungcheol giving them in exchange?”

Minghao shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Jeonghan snapped his head at that. “What do you mean, you _don’t know?_ You’re in his inner circle, shouldn’t you know these things?”

“We may be a family, but it’s not my place to question the boss. Neither should you.”

He was shocked, but Minghao’s brutal tone signaled the end of Jeonghan’s questioning. Maybe he was too headstrong, but he could never have such blind faith in someone as it seemed Minghao and Seungkwan did. 

His brain was spinning around in circles trying to figure out what the fuck was going on. They were about to kill a young boy. Seungcheol’s shipment had exploded. An organization from China was pissed. They were demanding something in return. There were too many blanks for anything to make any sense.

“Minghao, why are we stopping? Minghao, come on, we can’t possibly be—” Seungkwan chattered nonsensically, once he’d finally taken in the scene at hand. Minghao was pulling out his gun as he pushed the boy to his knees.

Minghao rolled his eyes at Seungkwan’s dramatic imploring. “Do you think I consider this a fucking ideal situation here? We are surrounded by traffic, and most of the shipping piers have no concealed areas. We couldn’t take him any farther without seriously risking getting caught. This was the only place.”

The boy shook his head quickly, frantically. “No, he’s right, he’s right, you don’t have to do this. You told me you wouldn’t kill me if we got out of there alright.”

“I lied,” Minghao hissed, placing the gun against the boy’s temple. “You’ve heard too much already.”

“If my people find out you’ve killed me, you’re a dead man walking! They’ll come find you! Business will be ruined,” he pleaded, gritting his teeth in agony.

Minghao squatted down to the boy’s level, causing the boy’s eyes to widen almost comically. The tip of his barrel was pointed underneath the boy’s chin now, causing his head to jut up. “ _Shǎ guā_ , if they really gave a shit about you, they wouldn’t have sent you on a suicide mission.”

Jeonghan could see tears forming in the boy’s eyes, as he squeezed them shut in what seemed like a desperate prayer. “Wait,” Jeonghan interrupted as he stepped forward, causing Minghao to scowl. 

He didn’t stop for Minghao to interject, instead kneeling down as Minghao stood back up again. He cupped the boy’s face, and he automatically flinched. The kid was shaking and now the tears were beginning to fall. Jeonghan figured it was his parental instincts kicking in as he softly shushed the boy’s sobs away, carding his fingers though his soft golden hair. He was completely soft. Soft eyes, soft lips, soft skin. Too soft to be about to be murdered. He wondered how he’d ended up in such a position. Jeonghan didn’t even know his name.

He made sure the boy honed in on his eyes, trying to tell him everything would be alright, even if it was a lie. “Look, we can help you if you help us. Just tell us who sent you, what they want—”

“Stop!” the boy cried. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

Before Jeonghan could respond, the boy was pulling out something from his pocket and shoving it into his mouth. Minghao surged forward to pull the kid’s jaws open, but he had bitten down before he could reach him.

Immediately, he began to suffocate, gasping for breath yet finding none. Minghao seemed pissed he hadn’t be able to shoot him. They both knew there was no reviving someone after cyanide comes in contact with the blood. Jeonghan didn’t even want to watch as the poor thing’s skin slowly turned a deathly purple, and he looked sickeningly nauseous. After a few moments, his seizing turned still and there laid a freshly dead body in front of them.

Seungkwan shook his head. “If that kid was right, China is going to be pissed.” After all, he was the negotiator out of the three.

“He wasn’t. Don’t be paranoid.” Minghao shrugged it off. There was nothing to do now. 

“What are we supposed to tell Seungcheol?”

Minghao still hadn’t put the gun away and it was intimidating Jeonghan. “Nothing.”

Seungkwan started a fuss, which Minghao cut off and said they didn’t have time for. “What’s more important right now is this dead body. I have nothing heavy to tie him down with in the water, so we’re just going to have to settle.”

“But dead bodies—”

“You don’t think I know how human composition works, Seungkwan?” Minghao snapped, but then he sighed and took another deep breath. Jeonghan doubted the boy was usually this uncomposed. “I’m sorry. Please just help me move this body over.”

Seungkwan lifted him up by the legs while Minghao supported him under his armpits, and with a rocking count of three, they tossed the body into the water. The splash got on their clothes and hair. Jeonghan looked between Seungkwan and Minghao. He’d almost forgotten both of them were injured and bleeding. Offhandedly, he’d wondered how many serious injuries they’d accumulated over the years.

The three walked away in silence, as if nothing had ever happened, as if everything had gone perfectly. They walked away from the industrial district slightly closer, as the bond murder forms does to people. Jeonghan doubted this would ever be talked about again. Yet he left with even more questions than he’d walked in with, giving him a relentless itch.

 

\----------

 

Next morning, the sunrise was just beginning to bloom as Junhui rolled out of his shared bed to get dressed. Minghao rustled in his sleep, and the faint pinks and purples filtering through the penthouse windows made the assassin look unusually soft. He resisted the urge to reach out and comb his fingers through his thick hair in case he ended up waking him. They’d hardly been each other with Junhui’s new assignment. He woke up earlier than Minghao, and came back late afternoon, typically eating and falling asleep. Minghao was just leaving their penthouse as Junhui came back. Minghao’s jobs usually extended late into the night.

It was odd donning a blue uniform every morning, the uniform of an organization he’d been groomed to oppose. He felt out of his element, the slightly scratchy material chafing his skin as if it knew it was housing an impostor. He almost felt like he was betraying his people just by wearing it. It’d taken the secretaries downstairs several days to adjust to the change; the girls’ eyes widened for a moment every time they saw the police uniform, that was, until they realized it was just Junhui. So far, Seungcheol had only been notified once of a policeman that had somehow infiltrated the building. 

He took the commute to the station and arrived early, too early for Junhui’s tastes. He was pretty sure he wouldn’t have survived without the coffee station tucked in the corner of the office. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that officer Hong Jisoo staring at him while he poured his coffee. Of course when Junhui turned around, his coworker whipped away, but it was obvious. 

He’d made Jihoon find out as much about Hong Jisoo as possible. Raised in America, lives in Korea. Single in a studio apartment. Few friends. Totally immersed in his job.

There had to be _something_ else to him. He was too boring. 

He strolled around the cubicles to his own desk, taking his time. It was early enough that not many people had come into work yet, and some of the ones that had were already out on duty. 

Wooyoung, an officer he’d only met at their corporate dinner, greeted him from his desk, waving sweetly. He walked a couple cuticles forward until he was caught looking at an old photo of a little girl grinning from ear to ear at an empty work space. Jisoo snapped around to glare at him. “Don’t touch anything at that desk.”

Junhui raised his eyebrows and admitted defeat to the oddly-defensive man. But he walked up to Jisoo and rested his arms on the top of his cuticle. “What exactly do you have against me here?”

“I don’t have anything against you,” he grumbled, not even bothering to look up at him again. He sounded more dismayed that he didn’t have any proof of reason to hate him than anything else.

“Well, I don’t have anything against you,” Junhui said, “so hopefully we are able to work together.”

“Of course.”

Breezing by that painful air of negativity, he took his coffee with him across the office, where a sleepy Hansol was just entering. The latter yawned before he accidentally collided with the former, swishing his coffee over the rim of the styrofoam cup and all over his uniform and the floor. 

Hansol just stood in front of him, brain assessing the damage done, and his mouth wide open. Perhaps he felt bad considering not a single speck of coffee had landed on his totally workplace appropriate tie-dye hoodie. 

He heard a muffled snort behind them and didn’t have to turn around to know it was Jisoo. At the same time, Hansol let out a blabbering string of apologies and Junhui repeatedly assured him it was completely fine, just an accident.

“I’m so sorry, I got your shirt completely soaked, let me find some paper towels—”

A door opened at the sound of the commotion and Junhui and Hansol both froze, turning to find Wonwoo staring at the two and the hazelnut mess across the tile floor. 

“Samchon, it’s all my fault I swear!” Hansol blurted out and Junhui just stood there, wanting to close his eyes and disappear.

Wonwoo just shook his head softly and began to smile. “It’s fine, Hansol. Just go get some paper towels and water to clean it up.”

Hansol went off to find paper towels as Wonwoo led Junhui closer to his office. Actually, Chwe Hansol being a major klutz may have just gotten him a way in.

“So, he’s your nephew?” Junhui asked, leaning against the frame of the door. 

“Yeah,” Wonwoo said fondly. “He’s a good kid. And means well.”

“I know. It’s really no big deal. I hope he’s not afraid of me,” Junhui joked. “I know Jisoo is.”

Wonwoo rubs his hands over his eyes and through his hair, and it was unintentionally charming. “Jisoo is… stubborn. Just ignore him, and he should hopefully warm up to you at some point.”

Junhui just nodded disbelievingly. As if he could ever imagine Hong Jisoo warming up to him.

That was the same moment Wonwoo looked at Junhui and realized the front of his uniform was wet, and growing cold in the air as Junhui crossed his arms to keep warm. “Oh, let me go find you some extra clothes. I think I might be able to find some around here somewhere,” Wonwoo insisted.

“Oh you don’t have to do that, really,” Junhui assured him, pulling his arms in tighter and pretending not to shiver. He made sure to look up at Wonwoo through his lashes and offered him a small smile. He could see Wonwoo’s throat bob. After all, the police chief was very single.

“Stay here. I’ll be back with some clothes,” Wonwoo said before Junhui could argue further, walking past him and out of his office.

Junhui pulled the fake USB from his pocket and quickly walked over to the other side of Wonwoo’s desk. It was meticulously organized, with a photo of the whole police squad, but no other personal effects except for one of those cute little cat clocks with the waving arm. It was almost saddening. He would have stopped longer to stare at the photo if he knew how long it would take for Wonwoo to come back.

Thankfully the computer wasn’t logged off of, so he bent down to slide the fake USB into the port of the CPU below Wonwoo’s desk. He could remember Jihoon telling him to wait at least fifteen seconds, which didn’t seem long at the time, but counting to fifteen now with no idea at what second Wonwoo would walk back into the room was nerve wracking. Several windows and text boxes typing out code at lightning speed were popping up on the display after the rubber ducky was inserted.

He counted to fifteen silently, glancing back and forth between the door and computer until it was time, ejecting the fake USB just as he heard the clack of Wonwoo’s dress shoes against the tile floor outside. He shoved it in his back pocket as Wonwoo appeared in the doorway holding a change of clothes.

His brow furrowed as he walked over to where Junhui was leaning against his desk. “Why are you back here?”

Junhui looked down and bit his lip. “I’m sorry, I was just curious as to what the police chief’s desk looked like.”

Wonwoo let out a short laugh. “Boring. And I don’t even let any employees in here alone.”

“Oh?” Junhui mused. “Top secret government files? What are you hiding?” He leaned closer into Wonwoo, turning the other man stiff. He tried to keep his tight-lipped smile from pulling into a grimace as the drive in his back pocket dug into his ass.

“Unfortunately nothing that interesting, just important documents. But still, confidential.” Wonwoo switched topics by extending out the replacement clothes in his hands. “Here, go get changed. I’ll talk to you about assignments later.”

“Thank you! I promise I won’t be back here again!” he promised sincerely. After all, he wouldn’t. He’d already gotten everything he needed. 

The police chief nodded curtly, sitting down and going on to his computer as if nothing was amiss. Junhui walked out of the office with a gleaming smile, to which Jisoo just looked extremely confused.

He owed Chwe Hansol a very big thank you present.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit is actually lowkey going down?? The plot is progressing?? Who would have thought.  
> Sorry I haven't updated due to a lot of life shit and being busy.
> 
> Please let me know what you thought of the chapter? I love to talk to you guys and the support is amazing.  
> Thanks for reading!!


	5. Into the Lion's Den

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeonghan is taken on Seungcheol's business meeting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN UPDATE? THIS IS A CHRISTMAS MIRACLE
> 
> Enjoyyyy (:

 

As soon as he stepped onto the main work floor, he was ushered to Seungcheol’s office. It felt almost pretentious, as if Seungcheol couldn’t bother to come get him himself.

A door opened, revealing the man sitting behind a very polished wooden desk, littered with papers and pens and a few picture frames he wouldn’t dare to pick up and examine, despite the curiosity burning in his mind. Seungcheol looked slightly annoyed at the interruption for a moment, until he noticed the visitor. 

He finished signing a document with a flourish of his pen, and told the assistant to leave them. “Jeonghan.”

He stiffened, unsure what to do, so he quickly made a short bow. Yet he could just hear the man laughing in front of him.

“Don’t you think we’re over all those formalities by now? You’ve already earned my respect.”

Jeonghan cocked his head. “Thank you?”

“That’s why I’m taking you on my business meeting at the Diamond club tonight,” Seungcheol said, a hand propped under his chin and eyes narrowed as if gauging his reaction.

He nodded. “Yes sir.”

The corner of the boss’s mouth upturned at the younger’s courtesy. “It shouldn’t be anything major. You just need to become the part.”

“The part?” Jeonghan’s brows raised at Seungcheol’s unrevealing face. “As an escort?”

“Of sorts. You will be more valuable to me if you play the dumb hooker role and extract information while they are under their guards.”

So he wanted him to become a whore. _His whore._ Was he really the only one that could do this? Surely there were others. Was it simply business related, or did Seungcheol want to see him in that way for a reason?

Seungcheol wasn’t oblivious to the disapproving look on Jeonghan’s face. “This is the job you signed up for,” he snapped. “My intelligence agents play all sorts of roles. And this is what I require from you as of right now. If you don’t like it, you can leave.”

The man wasn’t wrong. Fuck being comfortable. He wouldn’t give up the entire case for one this one little thing. But still, “Why me?”

Seungcheol got up from his grandiose chair, grabbing his keys and walking around to where Jeonghan stood. He supposed Seungcheol was much less intimidating when they stood at exactly the same height, eye to eye. A even leveled playing field, almost.

“Potential. You’re my new ace, Park Jeonghan. I’ve got a good deck of cards in my hands, and I think you’re about to be my best card.”

Jeonghan was at a loss for words, and he didn’t like the new distance between them. 

“Plus,” Seungcheol added, with a slight smirk, “you’re my client’s type.”

The boss laughed at the horror in Jeonghan’s eyes. “Don’t worry, I won’t actually be letting you go.”

Before Jeonghan could object, he was pushing open the office door. “Now, come and I’ll show you your room here, if you ever need it. The meeting’s at 9, and you’ll need to change.”

So he followed the man down the corridor to what more or less could be his doom.

 

\----------

 

They got out of the car and he immediately shivered as he came in contact with the outside air, the thin see-through fabric not doing much insulating for him. He’d been slightly shocked at the silk organza blouse, light lavender with too-tight leather pants he’d been given. He followed Seungcheol, Seungkwan, and Kihyun out of the car right up to the club’s entrance. He’d worried that he was dressed too exotically compared to the others, looking like he’d stepped out of some androgynous Gucci runway. But when he saw all the beautiful outfits in the crowd outside, he figured he may have been wrong. There was line of people waiting to get inside scrawling all the way down the block, and he watched as two girls were admitted and the next guy was denied.

He’d forgotten just how select Diamond was. Yet Seungcheol walked right up to the bouncer, saying a few things under his breath until the bouncer nodded and gestured for them to enter. He wondered how that was possible, what Seungcheol had possibly said, but he knew he’d never know. Clearly this club was open to the public (very exclusively open, but open nonetheless), but it was also a home to important business dealings.

He could feel his jaw drop as they entered, giant, swathing crystal chandeliers flowing above a sea of moving people and private tables. Jewels dripped from the ceiling like icicles, diamonds twinkling in the flashing colored lights. The lights poured blue and purple and pink over the crowd, and the reflected light from the chandeliers rained on them like shining stars. He looked over to Seungcheol, whose face was washed over a deep magenta. The man just smiled and pulled him closer, linking his arm around his.

He’d never been that extroverted, but seeing the gorgeous crowd dancing along to the alluring music made him want to go and join them like a sailor being pulled in by enticing sirens. Maybe after the mission ended, he hoped foolishly.

Kihyun grinned at his shocked expression and floated like a butterfly over to a nearby table where he came upon a group of equally-beautiful laughing people. He slid in seamlessly and glanced over to Seungcheol for the briefest moment, nodding once before laughing along. Jeonghan felt hopelessly thrown into a sea of socialites, and despite the undeniably expensive clothes he dressed up in, he still felt out of place. 

Seungcheol pointed to their skin color in-ear receivers hidden under their hair, where Kihyun would supposedly communicate with them as he observed the main floor. He didn’t know how Kihyun would be able to socialize as well as keep watch for them, but the socialite probably had plenty of practice.

Jeonghan was pulled by Seungcheol forward, and Seungkwan strolled right behind them with a briefcase in hand that seemed to be weighing one side of his body down. He couldn’t help observing his surroundings, and he knew Seungcheol could feel him stiffen in his grasp as he reached realizations.

Individual tables were scattered throughout the main floor, circled by investors and businessmen and the like. There were women too, leaning in and giggling with older investors, young girls dragging men up and away from private tables around the edges of the floor.

Seungcheol whispered in his ear as they walked forward to a location unbeknownst to Jeonghan. “I can tell you’re wondering, yes, businessmen here are often persuaded into deals using prostitutes. Even celebrities and idols come here, like Kihyun’s contacts and friends.”

How was an illegal place like this even up and running? It was running so blatantly out in the open, for everyone to see and everyone to ignore. 

It scared him as to how well Seungcheol seemed to read his thoughts. “These men have police connections. The people have tried to shut this place down of course, but the police always let these people off the hook due to bribes.”

“What? That can’t be possible. The police wouldn’t do that.”

If these people were friends with police, was Seungcheol? Did he know any of his friends? Were any of his coworkers protecting him?

It made him wonder if he really knew anyone that well.

Seungcheol flashed him a knowing smile, as if you say, _you really believe that?_

The information overload had turned him sluggish, face wrinkled in realization. “Come,” Seungcheol prodded, before stopping in the middle of the floor. “Relax. We’re about to go upstairs to meet our buyer, and I need you. I need you to trust me.”

Jeonghan looked up at him, now swathed in a deep sea blue. He nodded shakily, which probably wasn’t very assuring, but he tried his best. “I trust you.” That was most certainly a lie. He had no idea what he was walking into. The blue hues surrounding him made him feel like he’d just been thrown into the ocean, and a shark like Seungcheol or something even bigger was about to eat him alive. Yet the one thing grounding him at that moment was Seungcheol’s arm wrapped around his, because he was still reeling from Seungcheol’s sudden accusations.

 _No._ They were his friends, and they were good. Soft spoken Jisoo who treated everyone kindly, Mingyu who’d babysat his kid, Wonwoo who gave them occasional free Friday afternoons off, everyone at the station who’d planned his recent surprise party with his favorite strawberry cake.

If Seungkwan had overheard them, he didn’t comment, instead following them upstairs and down a dimly lit corridor. It was just the three of them now, high above the party scene down below, the sounds dull and muted up on the second floor. Jeonghan told himself to snap out of it.

They stopped at a room halfway down the hall, Seungcheol pulling the door open to find a man sitting at the end of a long table. He hadn’t been told exactly what he was supposed to do, but his conversation with Seungcheol earlier came hauntingly to mind.

So he held up his head high, walking into the room beside Seungcheol, Seungkwan stepping inside as well with the briefcase. He noted two big bodyguards standing behind either side of the man in the otherwise empty room. He silently assessed them and knew none of them would probably be able to take down the two stone faced men in a fight if it came down to it.

“Choi Seungcheol,” the man spoke with a smile. He was probably in his forties, with wrinkled crow’s feet and slightly graying hair.

“Daejung,” Seungcheol bounced back with a tight smile, not one to be overly affectionate. He gestured for Seungkwan to step forward, and the boy laid the heavy briefcase on the table. “Here’s the sample. You brought the money, I assume?”

Daejung let out a cold-tinted laugh. “Of course I did. You think I’m not a man of my word?”

Jeonghan glanced over at Seungcheol, but he displayed the perfect expression of indifference. He shrugged. “Well, I haven’t had the pleasure of dealing with you yet.”

“I’d like to see it.”

“Seungkwan,” Seungcheol ordered, and the younger boy unlocked the briefcase. 

Jeonghan’s eyes widened at the tightly wrapped bags of white as Seungkwan spoke. He felt like he was inside one of those dramatic, action-packed American movies Jisoo often forced him to watch. “This is only a fifth of the product. If it is to your liking, we will set up an exchange for the rest once we receive your payment of 2.5 billion won.”

The man gestured to the bodyguard, who stepped forward to take a brick of the drug and cut a slit in it with a deadly-looking knife he’d pulled from his pocket. But Daejung paid his underdog no attention, instead snapping his eyes to Jeonghan.

“You’re one of Seungcheol’s.” No one had to say what kind of possession he was being labeled. He figured none of them had to guess using much of their imagination. Seungcheol having frequent whores must have been a thing then, if even new business dealers knew about them.

“Pretty, isn’t he?” Seungcheol broke out, and his hand burned against the small of Jeonghan’s back. As if he was a nice collectible. Their eyes met, Seungcheol’s mentally telling him to go along with things.

“Very.” A corner of the man across the table’s mouth was upturned. “Now, tell me, are you smart too?”

Jeonghan was surprised the man even bothered to talk directly to him. “I’d like to think so.”

“Well then, I’d like your opinion.” The man beckoned for him to come forward, like he was just some bitch that was supposed to obey its master. Seungcheol’s fingers pressed into his back as if to move forward, the gesture disguised as just a sign of possessiveness. 

He moved forward slowly, trying to control all of his movements to become smooth and seductive, and he could tell from the older man’s eyes that it was working. _Play the part._ But how could he pretend to be an entirely different person that he was not?

The man pulled out a black card from the inside of his suit, piquing his interest. He twirled the card through his old fingers for a moment before grinning up at Jeonghan from his seat, and that’s when the realization hit him.

He forced a smile. “I don’t think I can give you the best opinion, sir.”

Daejung raised his eyebrows. “I thought you said you were a smart one.” Clearly he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Basically, _if you don’t do what I say, you’re a fucking dead idiot._

The bodyguard placed the product on the glass table in front of him.

He tried to hide his shaky breaths. _This is all a movie. You’re in a movie, one of Jisoo’s American movies. It’s not real. You’re just playing a part._

Daejung placed the black card in his hand.

No, he was in a movie alright. One of those Bond movies, except he was playing the defenseless blonde piece James Bond had fucked once and fallen in love with. But the love interest always died, and no one was going to be his damn James Bond and try to save him.

He didn’t even bother to look up at Seungcheol. Was this all in the man’s plan? “Trust me,” he’d said. Trust me to let you get fucked up? Trust me to use you as a disposable player?

He bent down to scrape the card against the table, pulling the dirty white powder into small, shaky lines. His hair was falling in his face, and he could feel Daejung raking his stubby fingers in his hair and pulling it back as he pressed a finger against one nostril and inhaled through the other.

For the first couple seconds all he could feel was pure burning, and he intended to wipe his nose when Daejung yanked him closer by his hair. “What the hell?” He dug at Jeonghan’s ear, pulling out the communication piece. Before Jeonghan could process anything, he shoved Jeonghan’s face into the glass table, the loud thwack cutting the brief silence.

“You’re an idiot, Choi,” he heard above him while reeling at the pain throbbing in his nose and forehead. He lifted his head up from the table, Seungcheol glancing down with wide eyes at the large spider web cracks in front of him. He almost wanted to smile. As if that fucker felt sorry. He lifted a floating hand up to his face, pulling it away to find dark, sticky blood coating his fingers. In a daze, his bloody hands scrambled on the floor for the earpiece, and as soon as he found it and popped it back in he could hear Kihyun’s urgent voice.

“There are men rushing toward you guys. Get out of there now.”

Daejung and Seungcheol had their guns pointed at one another as well as all their companions, frozen in a stalemate of egos. Seungcheol knew more of Daejung’s men were coming. He also knew Daejung was stalling. 

On top of that, Jeonghan began to feel sluggish, his movements slurred as if he was drunk and his brain drowning in a swimming pool. Suddenly he wasn’t feeling injured, just fuzzy and light. Then a hand yanked him up by his precious organza, and he found himself flush against Daejung. “Please don’t rip that, it’s expensive,” he whispered, tilting his head up at Daejung’s. As if there wasn't blood on the shirt already.

“Unbelievable,” the older man muttered, shaking his head in amused disbelief.

Jeonghan broke out into a jumbled giggle, the blood from his forehead and nose getting into his mouth. “Also, I think the product’s nice, sir.” Seungcheol looked paler than usual, and Seungkwan was frozen in place. The man just lifted the gun up by his head.

“I’m glad,” Daejung smiled. “But Seungcheol had to go and fuck it up, didn’t he?” He looked up at Seungcheol. “I think you need to be extra careful with keeping this one. I like him. But one wrong move, and I’ll blow your bitch’s brains out.”

Thankfully, the ingredients in his system didn’t override Daejung’s threatening words. Now the fear was rushing through him in waves, and with it, adrenaline. 

The man looked down at him, breathing too close onto his face. “Stop struggling, baby. Be smart, like I told you to.”

And with that, he kicked his leg up back into the man’s groin, causing him to curse and with another push to his stomach, Daejung stumbled back into his own bodyguard. The gun that’d been held up to his head fired right by him, bullet plowing into the nearby wall. Seungkwan shot at the other bodyguard who was still standing, hitting him right in the chest. Daejung reached up to grab his leg from the floor and Jeonghan stomped hard, feeling the crushing of bones underneath his heel. 

His mind was flooded by a scream of pain, and hands on him who he couldn’t immediately recognize. Someone was getting back up. Everything was a blur, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel giddy.

“Jeonghan,” a voice called, unwavering. “We need to hurry.” He remembered faintly that people were coming. Oh, to kill them. Why was he laughing?

He was lurched forward, and they were moving down the hallway with dizzying speed. He noticed the briefcase in Seungkwan’s hand in front of him. These greedy people would really do anything to keep their money.

The end of the fuchsia-lit hallway opened up into a steep metal staircase outside of the building, and Jeonghan’s stomach lurched at the height. But there was yelling behind them, so he supposed there was nowhere else to go. Hands gripped tight at his waist, like the ones that had been burning into him like a brand earlier. He pondered for a moment, ultimately deciding he didn’t like it. He was pretty much picked up, making the squeeze down the railing tight. Dress shoes chaffed against the rusty metal until they’d made it all the way down. 

Through the haze, he noticed that a sleek, black car speedily pulled up in front of them. Seungkwan threw open the doors for them as the yelling and clambering behind them grew louder.

Seungkwan got into the passenger seat as Jeonghan was shoved into the back behind Seungcheol. He saw fiery wisps of peach hair in the corner of his vision that he desperately wanted to touch, so he reached his hand out.

“What did you do?” A voice in the front exclaimed. The car yanked left onto a side street, causing a loud screech as if even the car was berating Choi Seungcheol.

“Hyung, that was—”

“Shut up!” the man beside him ordered. “And Kihyun, do your job and drive.”

There was more commotion, and the pop of a bullet behind him made him jump. Would Daejung’s men just let up already? Yet for some reason, he wanted to laugh.

He was slumped against the rest of the side door, grinning as a blurry but beautiful man hovered over him. The man’s hands shook as they touched his wounds, and Jeonghan would almost say he was scared.

“Jeonghan—”

High Jeonghan threw away the pretense, the Jeonghan that was weak and intimidated by the man in front of him examining his injuries. He felt clearer than ever without the deep-sinking fear he’d been feeling for days, the anxiety that had churned and accumulated in his gut.

So he spit blood at Seungcheol’s face. Seungcheol’s mouth fell open in front of him, an expression he’d never seen from the powerful man. He wanted to laugh as he watched him remove the bloody spit from his cheek with his clean fingers, disgusted. For a second he wondered if Seungcheol would hit him, but the satisfaction of seeing the shock on the man’s face was worth it. And all that he was able to get out before his vision started going dark, the burning image of a beautiful, surprised man in front of his face, was, “Seungcheol, you piece of sh—”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have whole playlist for writing this fic, but Jeonghan was definitely walking into the club to "Bougie Party" by Chloe x Halle in my mind. I was trying to channel those vibes lol.
> 
> Please tell me what you thought! This could have been longer, but I was like fuck it, the people need something already. I'm so sorry I haven't updated in a long time, school and life is killing me rn ngl. And if you're a Cheongju reader as well, I'm so fucking sorry jdfsklfbgdjk. I need to get on my shit and update it, I'm just struggling.
> 
> ALSO like a dumbass, I forgot to mention a few things after last chapter. You have to suspend a lot of disbelief when reading this story, but I also research a lot. I researched a lot on human trafficking and Korea's "hidden" prostitution problem. It's often ignored and is a very serious issue that should be addressed. And there are many female as well as male host clubs/bars in Gangnam and other places. Lastly, if it's not blatantly obvious, this club in the fic is based off of Seungri's Burning Sun club. I do try to do as much research as I can.
> 
> Worth reading:
> 
> Korea's sex trafficking issue: http://www.savemyseoul.com/facts  
> Korean male host clubs: https://thegrandnarrative.com/2011/03/13/korean-host-bars-male-prostitution/  
> / https://www.sbs.com.au/popasia/blog/2016/04/28/host-bars-south-korea-catering-women  
> Burning Sun scandal timeline: https://www.billboard.com/articles/columns/k-town/8503818/burning-sun-scandal-timeline-seungri-jung-joon-young / https://www.sbs.com.au/popasia/blog/2019/03/12/timeline-burning-sun-controversy


	6. Decomposition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeonghan deals with the aftermath of the failed business proposal, and Jisoo and Mingyu go out on a call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ANOTHER CHAPTER? 4/5 DAYS LATER???? I'm freaking myself out. Who am I. How is this possible. I was really on a roll with this one though. It's a little short, but hey, its an update lol.

 

He sat in horror, frozen still and glued to the ground, unable to do anything but watch. They were back at the docks, with Minghao having his gun aimed and ready to fire with absolutely no hesitation in his eyes. And here Jeonghan was, watching helplessly as the soft boy released his hiccuping cries. He desperately wanted to reach out to touch him, to comfort him, but it was no use. He sat there useless, forced to watched the young boy suffer.

For if he moved, he realized, the gun held up against his head would go off. Cold metal pressed against his temple. It was Daejung beside him, his hot old breath fanning way too close to his face, and his fingers wrapped too tightly around his hair. It was suffocating. 

He was being punished.

Things kept shifting. Suddenly he was the one with the gun pointed at the Chinese kid. He could hear the boy begging for mercy, pleading that he’d give him anything. But the thrumming of blood in his ears was louder than the boy’s protests. His finger seemed to be locked on the trigger. He took a deep breath. He knew what he had to do.

When he looked up again, he was staring down the barrel at Suji. His daughter and light of his life, sobbing. “Daddy!” Suji cried out, tears falling between the folds of her pink dress. Long black hair tangled amidst her distress. Yet he was stuck by an unmovable force, ordered by an invisible entity to fire the gun. He could feel his own cheeks grow wet. 

His finger slowly squeezed tighter on the trigger, waiting precious seconds until the moment when—

 

\----------

 

Staring back at his reflection in the mirror, he wasn’t sure he liked what he saw. He splashed some hot water on his face and dried it off. He looked exhausted, and decomposed. He was never decomposed. Laid-back and comfortable and soft at times, but never decomposed. 

He was torn apart from the sink by a piercing, haunting scream. Rushing back to the bedroom, Park Jeonghan was thrashing around. He quickly went up to the other man, and a shake of his shoulder had Jeonghan throwing himself upright and awake, panting. He looked around frantically, hands reaching and desperate to grab onto something to steel himself. It just happened to be that his arm was closest.

“Seungcheol,” Jeonghan spoke slowly, pulling his hand back from his arm as if he’d been burned. The younger looked so disoriented, but determined not to ask for any help from him. “Don’t touch me. Actually, just get away from me.”

Jeonghan put his fingers up to his face and drew them away, looking almost surprised when they weren’t coated with blood. _Like they’d been before._ “Who…”

“I did.”

The blonde’s mouth hung open and his fists tightened, gripping the sheets harshly. “Get out,” he hissed.

“Look—”

The ring of his phone cut through the tension. He dug it out of his pocket and sighed at the caller ID. Seungkwan. “Boss, where are you? We have a client meeting scheduled in ten minutes in the conference room.”

Seriously, now had to be the time? “Who schedules a conference room meeting at 11 at night?” he replied impatiently.

“Uh hyung, actually, you did.”

He grumbled out a response and hung up, not wanting to be bothered by assistants and phone calls and deals and conference rooms. Instead, he fixated on the young blonde man who was looking at him with fire in his eyes.

Jeonghan narrowed his eyes at him. “Where am I?”

Seungcheol had been amused with the compliant, meek, but eager-to-please Jeonghan that had stepped through the doors of his establishment not that long ago. But this was a different Jeonghan entirely, sharp and ready to bite. The bleached blonde hair was now harsh instead of cute, long fingers cold instead of delicate.

“You’re in your provided room here at the tower,” Seungcheol spoke slowly, as if to not aggravate Jeonghan’s fury any further.

The pretty blonde pursed his lips and wiped the sweat off his forehead. Stray hairs clung to his skin in wet strands. “I need to go home right now.”

He made to get out of the bed, but Seungcheol moved with him. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Jeonghan scowled. “Excuse me?”

The pitiful screams still echoed through his mind. “You were screaming,” he said simply.

“I was—” Jeonghan paused. “I’m fine. Now get out of my way.”

“I know I told you to drop the formalities, but this is…” Seungcheol laughed. He was surprised by himself. Most people who dared to talk back to him were simply killed. But he seemed to be breaking all sorts of rules for this new recruit.

“I’m fine,” the younger repeated, dropping the disrespectful addition of his last comment.

Seungcheol noticed Jeonghan’s face was puffier than usual, and there were faint tracks down the edges of his cheeks. “You’ve been crying.” Daringly, he added, “Stay here.”

Jeonghan raised his brows and looked up at him with wide, dangerous eyes. “Don’t act for a second like you care about me at all.”

The anger radiating off of him almost caused Seungcheol to move back. “That’s not true.”

“How long has it been?” Jeonghan asked.

He didn’t have to ask what he was alluding to. “Only about an hour. You passed out on the way back.”

Jeonghan scoffed. “Of course.”

“What do you remember?” Seungcheol prodded.

“I remember…” Jeonghan began tentatively.

Even if he didn’t remember much, Seungcheol certainly did. Things had been running smoothly, the cards in their hands. He’d held his breath as Jeonghan had gone over to Daejung’s end of the table, and that’s when things started to go wrong.

He took a chance with the cocaine. He didn’t know whether or not Jeonghan would be able to handle it, but he had depended on the younger’s willingness to prove himself. He hadn’t been disappointed. But there weren’t many people that could perfectly replace Junhui’s job. Junhui would have done it immediately, no questions asked, but Junhui was crazy enough to do anything (and enjoy it in the process).

There was no lying about it; he was fascinated with the boy and was curious to see how far he could push him. He’d been willing to handle the consequences of Jeonghan snorting the cocaine, but he hadn’t been prepared for them to be compromised with the inner ears. Usually when things went wrong on trips like these, he was the one who always stayed calm and composed, giving the orders and getting them to safety.

Composed. He wasn’t composed when Jeonghan’s head cracked the glass table, and his bright red blood was smeared across it. He wasn’t composed when there’d been a gun to Jeonghan’s head, or a man suffocating him, or when the blonde boy decided to take matters into his own hands which ended up saving them all. And he definitely wasn’t composed when Jeonghan giggled and mocked him in the car once the cocaine had kicked in, eventually losing consciousness. He looked so delicate asleep, when he wasn’t uneasy around him or spitting blood in his face. Seungcheol had wiped at the excess blood off Jeonghan’s lips in the backseat when the two in the front weren’t looking back. And Seungkwan and Kihyun knew not to comment as he carried him up to the suite he’d provided for Jeonghan. Jihoon just gave him a disapproving look.

“I remember you not giving a shit about me.”

Seungcheol wanted to scream. “I told you to trust me!”

“And I fucking tried! I know what your people think of me. That I’m just some dumb whore for you to use to your advantage. That I can’t do any actual real work here.” Jeonghan looked exasperated, face flushed.

Seungcheol tried to smile, but Jeonghan just looked like he would slap him. “I can assure you they don’t think about you that way.” They very well could be thinking of him that way, if Seungcheol was being honest. His comrades didn’t reserve judgement for anyone. He sighed. “Give them time. And Seungkwan definitely respects you. You got us out of that deadlock position.”

Jeonghan’s eyes seemed to widen at that. “Oh?” Soon his expression turned gloating. “The dumb whore saved you guys from danger?”

The snarky personality was refreshing. “Yes, you played your part well and saved us. The deal was compromised, but we can deal with that.”

“Maybe you should trust _me_ instead.”

“Maybe I should.”

His phone rang out again. Curse Seungkwan. He stood up and smoothed out the front of his jacket, having changed after getting some of Jeonghan’s blood on his suit. Hopefully the younger’s injuries would heal soon. “I have to go.”

“You know I’m leaving, right?” said Jeonghan. “I may not know my way around, but I’ll figure it out.”

“I’m sure you’ll manage.” He smiled before leaving the room, but he couldn’t get his thoughts of Park Jeonghan to leave his head.

Once he made it through the corridor, he was stopped by Jihoon outside of the conference room, arms crossed. He could tell from the short man’s burning glare that he was pissed.

“What’s wrong, my lovely Jihoon?” Seungcheol asked, and realized too late that teasing was not the way to go.

Jihoon pressed his lips tightly. “Were you with Jeonghan?”

He pierced the bridge of his nose. “Not now, Jihoon.”

“I don’t trust him.”

Seungcheol used all his restraint to not roll his eyes and anger him. “I think we’ve established this. But do you really not trust him, or do you not like how close he’s getting?”

 _To me._ But he didn’t have to say it. Jihoon knew. The two of them had danced like spiders on a tangled web around their issues for so long that it had become exhausting.

Jihoon wouldn’t let go of his ever present frown. “At least tell me about the mission. Seungkwan mentioned it, but I want to hear it from you.”

He didn’t have the time or energy for this. “Long story short, we lost the buyer,” he snapped. “That’s all that matters.”

“I want the long story.”

A part of him felt bad, shutting down and berating the one he had been close to forever, the one who probably knew him better than anyone else alive. “I have a meeting to conduct. You can take the night off or join me, but don’t waste my time.”

Jihoon opened his mouth as if to say something, but paused and closed it. He nodded curtly without saying another word.

So Seungcheol watched him walk away, feeling further apart than he’d ever been from him before.

 

\----------

 

Every day, Jisoo waited to see what Zhao Jun had in store for them. Today he walked in all chipper, with a bag in his hand. His eyes narrowed as he walked the man stroll over to where Hansol was feeding papers in the copy machine. 

“Hansol!” Jun smiled. “I have a little present for you.”

Hansol’s mouth fell open, leaving him gaping like an idiot. “Uh, wow. What is it?”

“Well I was at the store the other day, and I just saw this and it seemed so _you_. Here you go!” He handed it to him.

The kid’s eyes widened dramatically as he pulled the gift out of the bag. Ah, another crazy tie-dye beanie. He wouldn’t deny that the gift screamed Hansol. “I love it.” Hansol broke out into a gummy smile and hugged Jun tightly. Hansol was so easily won over.

“Hansol-ah!” Jisoo whispered later over to where the younger boy was working. Hansol cocked his head questioningly and Jisoo beckoned him over. 

“What is it?”

“You’re fraternizing with the enemy!” Jisoo hissed, to which Hansol doubled over laughing.

The boy clasped a hand over his mouth. “Oh my god hyung, you’re really serious about this. He just gave me a hat!”

Jisoo sighed. “Please don’t make me think I’m crazy.”

That was when Mingyu strolled by into his cubicle, resting an arm against the wall. “You’re definitely crazy.”

“Thanks,” he said, rolling his eyes and turning around to face Mingyu. “Appreciate the commentary.”

“Sorry to interrupt your gossip, but we’ve got to go out on a call,” said Mingyu.

He turned serious. “What is it?”

“Woman reported her drunk boyfriend at her apartment. He’s abusive, and he’s got a gun.”

Before he could blink they were in motion, heading to the apartment complex with a team behind them for backup. They were a good team. They were friendly and joked around at the station, but were both deadly serious when it came to their jobs. They worked better together, and always watched out for each other.

Jisoo forced his mind to clear as they quickly bounded up the stairwell, breathing heavily as they reached the seventh floor. The elevator in the shitty apartments was broken, and the whole backup team needed to get up there quickly if necessary too.

But he couldn’t stop thinking about Jun. There was something off about him. And Jeonghan. Usually they communicated every night, but yesterday he hadn’t picked up after multiple calls. It was odd. Jeonghan was the kind of friend who would always pick up your calls no matter what.

Finally they came across the apartment, standing against the wall on either side of the door, guns raised. It was quiet. A cockroach skittered across the dirty floor to his foot, and his face wrinkled before he smashed it under his foot.

He looked over at Mingyu, who gave him a small but firm nod. He was to knock on the door first. But as he reached his fist out, they heard a loud, feminine scream, and a crush. They exchanged glances again. _Slight change of plans._

“Ma’am!” he called out, and the scene went still again. He imagined that the man was frozen on the other side of the wall, contemplating his next move.

Still, no one responded. “Ma’am, if you don’t answer the door in ten seconds, we’re coming in.”

Ten, nine, eight, seven… Another loud bang inside the apartment resonated. Fuck it.

He didn’t have to even say anything for Mingyu to know what to do. The door swung toward them, so kicking down the door would prove impossible. Mingyu brought his gun forward and shot at the doorknob, causing the door to swing open. Jisoo winced, thinking about how many neighbors they’d have to explain the noise to.

“Cover me,” Mingyu said, gun raised and leading the way. Jisoo nodded. They trusted each other completely after all the years they’d worked together. And they’d been on much more dangerous sites. But he shuddered at the thought of being assigned to a job with Zhao Jun, top of the academy’s incoming class or not.

As they slowly entered the small apartment, he immediately noticed the knocked vase in the living room, the scattered bottles of liquor on the kitchen counter, with one knocked over and spilling onto the floor.

Banging erupted, along with a woman’s wail for help to their right. Turning the corner, they were funneled into a dimly light, tight hallway. Yet he could make out which door the woman was screaming from, the door shaking due to her pounding.

“Ma’am, we’re here to help you!” He vaguely heard Mingyu call out. Deputy Mingyu, coming to the rescue. Ironic, considering his goofy personality and often lack of immaturity, his obnoxious workplace crushes and flings. Chief Jeon he could deal with, but if he found out Mingyu hooked up with Jun…

“Fuck!” Mingyu exclaimed, and Jisoo broke out his daze in horror. Mingyu’s hand had settled on the door handle, and it was bleeding. Shards of glass were embedded in his hand and a soju bottle had shattered against the wall, the alcohol soaking the floor under Mingyu. “Behind you!”

Jisoo whipped around with his gun aimed, finding a middle-aged man at the end of the hallway with a large kitchen knife gripped loosely in his hand. The man’s bloodshot eyes narrowed when they moved over to Jisoo. 

“If he tries to open that door again, you’re next,” the man slurred out, a cheap grin on his face. The woman was begging in the bathroom. He assumed the woman had locked herself in the room before the man could reach her again. 

“Drop the weapon,” Jisoo spoke slowly, to which the man just laughed. Yeah, that _definitely_ wasn’t happening. The man took a sudden, lunging step forward with the kitchen knife and Jisoo lurched backward, swerving to avoid the knife that slashed through the air. It made a dangerous swish as it flew by. He shot him in the leg, causing the drunk man to stumble back and slump against the nearest wall.

The knife clattered harshly onto the floor, and Jisoo was able to quickly kick it away and send it skidding down the hall before the man could reach out for it. He heard Mingyu call for some backup to wrap up the situation as the sniffing woman turned the lock and stepped into the hallway. She was sporting a massive bruise on her cheek, split lip, and ruffled hair that looked like it’d been in a fight.

But when she walked out and saw the now growing stream of blood from the man’s thigh, she shrieked. Mingyu took to immediately shushing her, letting out calm, soothing reassurances that Jisoo could never quite do; Mingyu had always been the charismatic people person out of the two of them. The drunk man was in too much of a daze to do any more real damage, so Jisoo was able to handcuff him before reinforcements arrived. Several officers and a medic rushed over to the man in order to take him away, and another officer came up to the woman to ask the shaking woman questions, but Mingyu cut him off.

“Can’t you see she’s in shock? Let her be. She’ll be able to talk later, when she’s ready.” The officer went quiet at that and decided to just nod, and the woman let out a tiny response of gratitude to Mingyu. 

He just smiled back warmly, as if everything was okay now. That’s when Jisoo realized that he’d forgotten Mingyu was hurt, blood drying and dripping still from his glass-cut hand. 

“Oh my god, Mingyu, are you okay?” Jisoo rushed forward, coming to examine the wound and wincing. 

“It’s fine, really,” Mingyu smiled tightly, but he could tell the deputy was wincing.

Once they’d made it down to the parking lot outside the apartment complex by the ambulance, a medic immediately started cleaning Mingyu’s lacerations and removing the tiny bits of glass. Jisoo watched as Mingyu sucked his breath in and flinched at every touch of the tweezers, no matter how manly or professional he tried to look. 

But once the medic was satisfied and bound up Mingyu’s hand, the two settled on sitting on the parking lot curb, watching the swarm of police and medics. Blue flashing lights clashed with red ones to create an almost dizzying effect. At least the woman from before looked alright though, sitting with a blanket around her and nodding to an officer.

“I’ll write the report,” he suggested, trying to be helpful but failing.

Mingyu looked over at him and gave him the most grateful look he could manage. It made Jisoo’s stomach churn, feeling even more awful. He held up his injured hand weakly. “Thanks, considering I probably wouldn’t even be able to type it.”

Jisoo tried to remember exactly what happened. He remembered them going down the hall, and before he realized, Mingyu was hurt, and he’d stood and done nothing. He hadn't been paying attention at all, instead wrapped up in his own nonsense and melodrama to protect one of his closest friends. It was his fault, wasn’t it?

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered out, and for a moment he thought Mingyu hadn’t been able to hear him.

“It’s alright.” Mingyu gritted his teeth after a moment of silence. “But you were supposed to cover me. Like we always do, we’re a team, we look out for one another.”

 _You don’t have to remind me, I’m well aware._ “I know.” He was afraid to look at Mingyu again, as if it would dig the knife in deeper. “I know, I’m sorry.” He shook his head. He’d been so out of it, thinking about work and Jun and Jeonghan.

“I needed you,” Mingyu said quietly, the words out in the open to dig into his skin and cause him further pain. Jisoo didn’t have any defending statements. He’d failed him. And he was lucky, considering the situation could have resulted in something so much worse.

“You were obviously distracted, what’s on your mind?” Mingyu asked, breaking Jisoo out of his thoughts once again.

 _Oh, just that our new coworker you think is hot is totally an evil scumbag, and I’m worried about my best friend who has thrown himself into the pits of danger and hasn’t bothered to answer my calls._ “Nothing really, just boring work things,” he replied offhandedly.

He caught Mingyu’s sideways dubious look, knowing that Jisoo was thinking a lot more than he was letting on. Jisoo was eternally grateful that the other didn’t question it though. “Jisoo, maybe I’m wrong, but you’ve been out of it a lot recently. And I love working with you, but I’m afraid this could happen again and other officers could be put at risk.” Mingyu bit his lip and stared down at his wrapped hand, the blood beginning to seep through the bandages.

God, was he that much of a liability? Was he that negligent of a fellow officer? Irrational thoughts began flooding his brain. Jisoo’s head snapped. “Are you firing me?”

Mingyu giggled incredulously, flashing him a sweet smile. “No, of course not. I’m not going to punish you or anything, and I don’t want you to write it in the report. But if I get the feeling that this is going to happen again…” he trailed off, growing serious.

Jisoo nodded quickly. As a friend, Mingyu wanted to help him. As his superior, he was telling him to get his shit together.

Maybe it was like Mingyu said, he _was_ crazy. _Or_ he was onto something. Right then though, he decided to lean against his friend with his head on his shoulder, despite knowing how much work they had to do at the station. They chose to observe the flurry of movement and people until the cars and ambulance and forensics van had all been whisked away, the blue and red lights dying and leaving them alone, the lone, flickering street lamp solely protecting them from the dark. The two opted to sit in silence the entire time, letting their minds wander. Each one seemed to know everything the other wanted to say out loud but was too afraid to do so anyway.

 

\----------

 

It was late at night, and Junhui and Minghao’s schedules had finally lined up to where they could be together. Unfortunately, both were tired to do anything nice together in their free spare time.

Minghao rolled around in bed, trying to get comfortable, but gave up. He turned over to where Junhui was sitting up with his headphones in and connected to his computer. He groaned. “Junnie, don’t you think it’s late?” He couldn’t sleep with the bright blue light illuminating behind him.

Junhui smiled down at him. “I’m sorry, it’s important. Work-related.”

He propped a hand under his face. “Fuck work, I’m tired of it. I miss you. We haven’t had sex in a whole week.”

The other snorted. “Do you want to now?”

Minghao snorted. “No, I’m too tired.”

“See,” Junhui joked playfully. “Don’t blame this on me.”

Minghao rolled his eyes and leaned forward, Junhui moving closer to kiss him softly on the lips. After they pulled away, he asked, “What are you listening to, anyway?”

The older grinned almost devilishly. You knew it was bad when he got that look in his eyes and started talking fast and gesturing animatedly. He always got excited about very dangerous things. 

“Planted a bug in the hat of a kid who works at the station. I’m listening to all his conversations with this cop. They’re definitely onto me. Too bad I’m onto them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and supporting! Feel free to comment, I love reading them so much and they really fuel my writing and motivate me to update like this one so quickly!
> 
> <3
> 
> Happy Holidays


	7. Boy Over Flowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mafia takes a field trip. Mingyu and Jisoo deal with an unusual case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is short! But it's been so long since I updated, so I had to (: Ofc, this hasn't been edited sooo... oof

 

Working for Choi Seungcheol had its benefits, luxuries Jeonghan never thought he’d experience. The pay was exorbitant, but he wouldn’t deny that he’d splurged a bit (or more than a bit) on new clothes and also many things for Suji. Wonwoo said it was alright to use it, despite it being dirty money, but why would he deny himself simple luxuries if Chief Jeon Wonwoo approved? Now there he was, running his fingers through the dark curtains of the luxurious limo as a driver escorted him to UN Village. 

It was a _small_ limo, Seungcheol said. _Unassuming._ Sure. But it fit all of them, the backseats plush and facing each other. Seungcheol sat across from him with Chan to his right and Jihoon at the end, whereas Jeonghan was flush against the window with Minghao and Seungkwan to his left. They were all chatting lightly, joking around, though Jihoon was quiet. Chan looked giddy, saying that he’d never been to UN Village before. Jeonghan refused to look forward and join in on the conversations, instead settling on the silky curtains and the scenic view outside the tinted glass window. He could feel also feel Seungcheol’s eyes burning into him in his peripheral vision. Honestly, it was hard to avoid talking to your own employer.

They stopped abruptly at tall, towering gates as the driver rolled down his window and talked to the security guard. Before he knew it, they were pulling into the parking garage of some sprawling apartment complexes. The contemporary apartments themselves didn’t look _that_ luxurious, but he knew it was all on the insides. And the reason for why they were so exclusive was because of the beautiful views, the apartments nestled between the Han river and the mountains.

Once they’d gotten out of the limousine, he obediently trailed behind the rest, letting the others take the lead. They reached a small complex that was stretched out across the edge of the waterfront. While it was located in UN Village, it blended into the multitude of other apartment complexes, making the home seem unassuming.

They reached the top floor, and Seungcheol was the one that knocked on the obnoxiously red door that was anything but unassuming. Jeonghan had no idea about who they were doing to see, but it was beginning to get interesting at least.

He heard quick footsteps on the other side and at least three or four locks being unlocked before the door swung open, revealing a very young, charming man with very bright watermelon red hair. His eyes widened at the man’s extremely loud and slightly gaudy baroque Versace robe that made him just exude privilege and ‘fuck you money’. 

“Choi Seungcheol!” The man threw his arms around the boss’s neck, and Seungcheol just stood extremely stiff and awkward as the flamboyant man embraced him.

Seungcheol gritted his teeth. “Hi, Kwon…”

“Oh, don’t be so somber, Choi. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” The man pulled away and smiled widely. “And to what do I deserve this honor, you brought your little crew this time!” Kwon gestured at the rest of them with a limp wrist and Seungcheol frowned, considering Kwon’s comment almost mocked the fact that they were the top team of assassins in the capital. 

The boss gave him an easy smile. “Figured I’d take the kids on a field trip,” he joked dryly, going along with Kwon’s amusements.

Kwon gestured for them all to come in and bowed dramatically. “Welcome, I’m Kwon Soonyoung.”

The bright man gleamed and his eyes creased as he smiled. That and the red hair looked somehow familiar, like a strange case of deja vu. 

As Jeonghan stepped through, he could finally examine the interior of the apartment, and it was nothing less than expected. Modern furniture with lush plants and expensive paintings decorated the walls, and one wall was completely glass, opening up to a wide outdoor patio with even more ferns, seating, and a regal tiger water fountain with water shooting out from the tiger’s mouth. It overlooked the peaceful Han river, and the bustling city beyond.

He let out a breath of awe at he stared at the sight, one only the top 1% could ever dream to afford. He jumped slightly as Soonyoung appeared next to him. “Beautiful, hmm?”

Jeonghan nodded quickly. “Very.” He turned around to find a cat coming up to and rubbing lovingly against Jihoon, who tried to frown but was clearly struggling, having a very hard time looking disgusted. The cat looked as elegant as everything else in the room, lean with bold tiger stripes adorning its coat. It had to be one of those exotic breeds you could only buy for thousands overseas. Soonyoung giggled at Jihoon’s expression and his purring cat. 

“That’s my baby, Hoshi.” Soonyoung beamed. “She likes you Jihoon, so you should count yourself very lucky,” he said before turning his attention to something else. Jihoon just grunted something in response, allowing the cat to continue rubbing up against him.

Jeonghan’s brain was beginning to get slightly fuzzy. Offhandedly, he tried to remember what they had even come there for in the first place. Surely not river views and fancy cats.

Chan was gushing over the place like a little kid, acting like he didn’t live in this kind of wealth every day. “Soonyoung, have you ever seen Kang Daniel around here?”

Ah, so the kid must like idols. Sometimes he forgot that Chan must like normal teenager things, despite being prepped and trained to become a mob boss.

Soonyoung gleamed. “Honey, I’ve been trying to catch that one for a while,” he drawled, but turned around to face him and narrowed his eyes. “You’re a fan, huh? I’m sure I could find a way to arrange something for you.”

Chan’s face lit up like a damn Christmas tree. “Really? You would do that?”

The older man just looked amused, looking down on Chan like an adorable puppy. He cupped a hand against the boy’s face. “Anything for Seungcheol’s dear ward, of course.”

He walked away from Chan without another word, the younger standing in silent awe and appreciation. Who knew kid assassins got starstruck too.

Soon Seungcheol was getting restless, shifting his weight between his feet. Soonyoung caught on pretty quickly and ushered them towards a bookcase, pushing it to the side to reveal a walk-in vault. The others weren’t surprised at all; Jeonghan wondered how many of them had come here before. 

They stepped through into a wide room full with weapons in glass display cases and lining the illuminated walls. ARs, handguns, and a wide variety of other weapons were featured. Everyone began to walk around and admire some of the rarities.

Seungcheol listed out the quantities of arms he needed, and the numbers seemed ridiculously high. Exactly how many people were working under him? And how many were to be shipped off? Jeonghan didn’t know where he could find those answers. Maybe Jihoon’s laptop? If only there was a way to get it.

“Jeonghan,” Soonyoung stated out of nowhere, breaking him from his plethora of thoughts. 

The man had a gleam in his eye, as if he knew something no one else in the room did. ”I love your hair,” said Soonyoung, smirking knowingly. “You should try brown,” he suggested.

Jeonghan nodded with a gulp and managed to choke out, “Thanks for the recommendation.” It could be a coincidence, right? A meager suggestion. Yet the man’s eyes…

Seungcheol narrowed his eyes at Jeonghan and his brow furrowed in confusion at the offhand comment for a moment, but the curiosity quickly dissipated. 

It was hard to even look at each other too long, it seemed. It’d been days since he fought with Seungcheol, yet it was still fresh in his mind. The asshole knowingly sent him to his death, and had the gall to defend his actions. Yet he remembered his pleading eyes, the anger yet desperation in his tone as they threw jabbing words. And somehow, he imagined soft fingers touching his lips. A dream, or a hallucination from the drugs, or maybe it had been real. He wasn’t sure if he wanted it to be or not.

Soonyoung began to get the guns to load onto a truck, appointing Jihoon, Seungkwan, and Minghao to move them for him. That left them and Chan in the weapons room, and Seungcheol and him couldn’t look eye to eye. Chan brushed his fingers over one of the cases, stopping to admire an old Stevens .22 pistol. It was gold plated with a sheer ivory handle, shimmering under the light.

Soonyoung smirked at the boy’s fascination. “Ah, you like it? It’s very showy. But I suppose you could pull it off.” Soonyoung winked flirtatiously, and Jeonghan almost choked at Seungcheol’s blanched face. 

The older brother looked even more aghast when Chan blushed. The younger boy didn’t even have to say a word for Soonyoung to pull out the gun and hand it to him. “Treat it nice. It’s special, you know? I haven’t even sold one of these to the Seoul police or any other organization.”

 _The Seoul police?_ “How much?” Seungcheol interrupted.

“Free,” Soonyoung assured him. “You’re already paying for all the rest of it,” he laughed. Seungcheol pursed his lips but didn’t say more.

Seoul police. He’d sold weapons to the police department. Not any department, _his_ department. Captain Wonwoo’s department…

He looked up at Soonyoung as if he’d just run into a wall. The watermelon hair was new, but that boisterous laugh and crescent eyes were the same. He remembered a man weeks ago walking into Wonwoo’s office and laughing as they shook hands. He knew the man looked familiar. Fuck. He must have seen him with brown hair. 

“Are you alright?” You look—” He felt a firm hand on his arm and quickly shrugged it off. He didn’t need Seungcheol’s sympathy, no matter now dazed he looked.

“I’m fine,” he said forcefully, hoping Seungcheol wouldn’t try again. Soonyoung just wiggled his ridiculous eyebrows to poke fun at their “drama”. Whatever.

“Boss,” Minghao broke out from nowhere. “The weapons are all loaded in the truck. Ready to go.”

Seungcheol nodded curtly. “Good. I think this is enough excitement for today.” He turned quickly to Soonyoung, pausing before taking a breath. “Thank you, Kwon.”

“At your service,” Soonyoung giggled, wrapping his gaudy robe around himself. Seungcheol took the lead to head out of the house, but Jeonghan strayed behind to watch Soonyoung throw Chan an obnoxious kiss.

“Call me, blondie.” Soonyoung winked. And with that, a flustered Chan was hot on Jeonghan’s heels as they rushed out the door and away from UN Village, away from one of the strangest men he’d ever met in his life.

 

\----------

 

“Fuck.”

Jisoo looked down. “Fuck indeed.”

“Can someone get Seokmin down here already!” Mingyu yelled against the wind, his hair getting ruffled with the breeze. He tried to swat away the hair in his eyes as he looked back down. “No way in hell I’m touching that,” he muttered.

“Well fortunately, I will,” called out Lee Seokmin, who quickly approached them with a cheerful smile. Unsettling how he could smile despite the morbid circumstances. “What would you guys do without me?”

_Lee Seokmin, evidence technician and crime scene investigator, at your service._

“Now, how did we get this one?” he asked.

Mingyu gritted his teeth. He was trying not to pinch his nose. Would that be inconsiderate to the dead? “Got an unknown caller at 10:23 this morning reporting a body. Said they were jogging and saw it washed up on the rocks.”

“Any clue about him?”

He shook his head. “No ID on him. In fact, no belongings whatsoever.”

Seokmin bent down at the dead body, gloved hands examining the pockets. He did a quick initial examination of the body and sighed. Or, what was left of the body. The skin was a swollen and a mixture of blues, purples, and greens. The hair was reduced to blonde, flax strings. The body was being greeted by flies searching for a comfortable home. “That’s odd.”

“What?”

“It’s a kid. Well, early twenties at the latest. So you’d expect him to have a wallet, phone, high school or college badge. But we’ve got nothing. Sure, the sea is guaranteed to wash some of that away… but I’d have figured something would have been left behind.”

“So…” Jisoo drawled, “will you still be able to collect a fingerprint?”

Seokmin laughed cheerily, yet it felt somehow condescending. “Of course. Based on the bloating, and how its been cold recently, I’d estimate it’s been about a week since he died. And we can get fingerprints for up to years if they’ve been in water.”

“Oh. Of course,” Jisoo stuttered, then looked up and saw Mingyu’s matching upturned lips. He shrugged. They were both clueless.

They watched as the CSI department began to take over, the two muttering among themselves as Seokmin examined the bloated body. 

Seokmin was prodding the stomach when he abruptly stopped. “Penetrating bullet wound on the lower left abdomen.”

“Who the hell would shoot a kid?” Jisoo side-whispered to Mingyu, who shook his head in disbelief. The case just seemed to be getting more and more confusing.

“Wait.” They bent down and leaned in as Seokmin delicately peeled back the watered down black fabric of the boy’s sleeve to reveal a small tattoo on the inside of his wrist. There were four single flowers: a rose, peony, hibiscus, and sakura.

“That one,” Mingyu pointed to the third flower, “that’s the national flower of Korea.”

Jisoo gave him an incredulous laugh. “How do you even know that?” As if Kim Mingyu would be the holder of such random knowledge.

“You don’t?”

Jisoo shrugged. “I was brought up American.”

Mingyu hummed. “I guess that’s an excuse.”

A CSI worker moved forward to take a close-up of the tattoo, and the two officers were whisked away so the investigations unit could do their thing. They walked along the short cliff’s edge, workers busying themselves down among the rocky shore. The body was getting loaded up to leave as they stood there, watching the rough waves beat against the dark rocks. 

“You’re thinking what I’m thinking, right?” Mingyu asked, turning to Jisoo.

He nodded curtly. “Gang member of some sort.”

“I’d thought we’d had all of the Korean gangs identified,” Mingyu sighed.

“I don’t know, but I do know you’d better brush up on your flora knowledge quickly, flower boy,” Jisoo teased, hitting him in the shoulder.

_Rose, peony, hibiscus, sakura…_

 

\----------

 

A sob broke out in the police station as a frantic woman burst through the doors. 

“Please, please, I need help, my daughter—” A woman with wispy unkempt hair and disheveled clothes cried out. The girl at the front desk tried calming her down.

“Ma’am, I need you to calm down and take a seat please,” the young girl carefully explained, standing up from her desk as the woman started rambling and demanding to see an officer.

Chief Wonwoo rounded the corner with a deeply furrowed brow. “What is going on over here?” The woman was yelling at the front desk girl and by now, a small group of officers had congregated to take a peek at the panic.

“Uh, what is that woman doing?” Jisoo whispered over to Mingyu.

The deputy sighed and shook his head. “I think she’s called the station before. She talks like a madwoman with some crazy conspiracies. I don’t even know.”

At that point, Jun had snuck up and appeared beside Jisoo, nearly making him jump. He hadn’t even heard the dude walk up behind them. 

“Who’s she?” Jun inquired, popping his head up to see through to the front room. Jisoo tried not to scowl at his perfectly styled hair. It was somehow aggravating. 

“Some crazy lady,” Mingyu muttered, walking forward to deal with her and get her to calm down.

“Ms. Song?” Mingyu asked, putting on his most professional, calming demeanor. “Hi, I remember us talking on the phone—”

“My daughter still hasn’t been found! I have called you guys so many times and nothing! You pathetic, do-nothing assholes are useless!” The woman slammed her hand down on the counter, and the skinny receptionist girl jumped. 

Mingyu stood firmly in front of the crazed woman. “Ms. Song, I need you to calm down or you will be escorted out of the station. That, or you will be considered resisting a police officer.”

“Not until you find my daughter Eunkyung! She was taken! I have proof this time!”

“If you would like to talk this out rationally, I’d be glad to sit down with you,” said Mingyu through gritted teeth. Jisoo could tell his patience was running thin, the man was combing his finger through his hair as his face grew heated.

“You liars. You all took her! That’s why you aren’t helping me! I’m onto you,” the woman shouted. 

“Excuse me ma’am, but I’m afraid I’ll have to escort you outside now…” he could hear Mingyu say as Jisoo turned to watch Jun roll his eyes, ready to get back to work.

Jun blew out air through his pouted lips dramatically. as he leaned against the cubicle. “How nonsensical.”

 _Nonsensical? Who even uses ‘nonsensical’ in a real life sentence?_ , Jisoo wondered offhandedly. _So pompous._

Okay, so there hadn’t been anything necessarily bad about Jun so far. In fact, he’d been quite nice and helpful. But a little part of him refused to let go. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hansol approaching with a paper from the copy room. Jisoo shot him an inquisitive look, and Hansol replied with a shrug and an “oh well” face.

“Fingerprint analysis for the guy. No matches,” said Hansol.

“Great. That’s exactly what I needed to hear.” Jisoo sighed, then suddenly perked up. “Wait!” he called out before Hansol walked away. “Order a search for all the East Asian countries. I don’t care how long it takes, just do it.”

Hansol cocked his head and Jun glanced over. “Uh, whatever you say hyung.”

“And America!” he added.

“America?” Hansol was staring at him as if he had three heads. “That’s weird.”

“Do it, kid,” Jisoo laughed at the stoner-looking kid. 

Mingyu reappeared, his hair a mess. He was fanning himself gratuitously, sighing against Jisoo’s cubicle. “That woman is a piece of work, calling in all the time with crackpot theories on who stole her kid. We’re pretty sure her daughter ran away from her alcoholic father and her mother who is clearly psycho. But she refuses to accept it.”

“Wow. My parents now seem so mind-dullingly average.”

The deputy plopped down on a seat. “Yeah, I’m starting to believe mine actually were too. Hey Jun, were your parents equally as fucked up or—”

Jisoo’s head peeked above the dividers and turned to survey their surroundings. “He’s gone. Where did he go?”

Mingyu shrugged, too tired with his recent encounter to bother replying. 

That one always seemed to appear and disappear out of nowhere like a shadow. A fly on the wall, or a thought that faded as soon as it had materialized. If only he could get his endless suspicions about Jun to go away as well. But for now, he’d settle listening to Mingyu’s irrelevant tale of the cat stuck in a tree that he’d coincidentally saved that morning.

 

\----------

 

If there was one more ring, Junhui would murder him.

“Hello?”

He let out a haughty sigh. _”Finally.”_

“What is it?” Junhui could hear in mumbled Mandarin through the other end of the call. “I was sleeping in today.”

“I know, I know,” Junhui reassured him. “But I’m hearing things at the station. They don’t tell me much, but…”

“But?” his lover grumbled out, ready to go back to sleep.

Junhui pressed his lips together tightly, gripping the counter of the men’s bathroom. “Minghao my dear, who exactly did you kill? Pray tell.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, a plus of COVID-19 and having a shelter in place where I live means I've finally gotten a small break from life and have actually had some time to write! So that's pretty cool.
> 
> Anyway, I'd love to hear your thoughts! On Soonyoung! On this mysterious business! Theories? Ideas? Ranting? I love reading it all, fr. Thanks for reading, sorry its been a while.


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